


All That Glitters

by LadyDarksbane



Series: No Rhyme or Reason [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Almost AU-ish, Canon Divergence, Coming of Age, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Underage Sex, WIP, lost innocence, time apart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:45:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 96,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5442158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDarksbane/pseuds/LadyDarksbane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A girl comes of age at Honorhall in Riften. She's thrust out into the world with nothing more than the clothes on her back and has to fend for herself. She struggles to survive in the city that's home to the Thieves Guild without falling prey to the allure of easy money. When the resident Blacksmith takes her into his home and gives her a chance at a better life, she discovers the place she wants to be is at his side. If only he weren't flirting with the woman known as the Dragonborn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hello Cruel World

**Author's Note:**

> Kirsli's story came about as a plot bunny while I was playing an alternate start Non-Dragonborn play-thru. It just wouldn't leave me alone. So I began writing and decided to see where it went. 
> 
> Update 2/24/17: This story and my other Skyrim/Dragon Age story, Bird of Prey, are being merged into the same universe. I had hit a wall creatively with what I was doing with both and decided that combining them into one world would simplify things and has renewed the creative flow. ETA on a new chapter for this... ummm.... not sure, I'm working on it.

Grelod’s nasal shrill voice echoed through the small, dirty orphanage, chastising one of the poor boy’s under her unfortunate care. It sounded like she’d found an apple he had been hiding. A solid THWAP followed by a cry as Grelod hit him on the bottom. Stealing food, she accused. The boy stifled his sobs, knowing she would beat him more and harder if he cried too loud or long. Grelod’s abuse had gotten worse since Aventus had run away.

From her bed in the far corner, Kirsli watched through the veil of hair covering her face. She did not want to draw Grelod’s ire yet. She knew her moment was coming all too soon. It was her naming day. Or what she had always been told was her naming day… before she ended up in Honorhall. Kirsli shook her head, remembering. It was only supposed to be for a little while, her stepfather had told her when he dropped her off. He and her mother were headed to Whiterun Hold in search of work. That was ten years ago. They never came back. Had it all been lies? Had they tossed her aside like the garbage just as Grelod always said?

It was all too overwhelming as Grelod stormed her way. “Get up, you lazy bag of bones. Do you think you are going to lay around in bed today?”

Kirsli scrambled off the bed, barely catching the blue dress and brown boots the old woman threw at her.

“Get dressed,” Grelod ordered. “Today is your last day here. You have seen 16 naming days. It’s time for you to go out into that wide, horrible world out there and no longer be my problem. One less mouth for me to feed.”

Grelod’s assistant, Constance Michel, joined them. “Should we not at least let her eat something before you shove her out the door?” Constance turned a sympathetic eye to Kirsli. The girl was so young and Riften was not for the faint at heart. The city was foul and corrupt, practically run by the Thieves’ Guild.

“Do not tell me how to run my orphanage, Constance. I have had enough of your constant coddling these guttersnipes. Nobody wants them, that’s why they are here. It is time for her to go and whether you like it or not, she is going.” Grelod’s face turned mottled shade of red. She swung her attention back to her young charge. “Now you, get dressed. And do not be all day. I have things to do.”

The old headmistress marched away, coming back momentarily to throw a small leather knapsack at Kirsli. Constance stepped closer to the younger girl, lowering her voice. “Remember what we talked about, yes?”

Kirsli picked up the knapsack. She had had it with her when her stepfather dropped her off ten years earlier. Now she would be leaving here with it. She quickly removed the linen gown she’d slept in and stuffed it in the knapsack. Then she pulled the blue dress with a brown corset over her head. Constance helped her adjust it. Her fingers slightly shook as she pulled on the knee-high brown boots. Uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach. “Yes, I think I remember. You said to stay out of the Ratway, most of all.” Kirsli licked her lips, glancing around the room she’d called home for the last ten years.

“You’ll need to find work first off. Try to ask around the shops to see if any of them need an extra hand. Haelga at the Bunkhouse provides beds for most of the workers in the city. If that fails, remember what I taught you about alchemy and ingredients. They are everywhere. Flowers, butterfly wings, certain bird’s eggs, plants, fungi. Depending on what it is, they can be sold to the alchemist down in the canal for a decent price. Wood can be chopped for the local sawmill, or crops picked for the farms, though those are outside the city walls. I just don’t want to see a sweet girl like you end up prey for the Thieves’ Guild. Or worse,” Constance smoothed a lock of red hair away from Kirsli face. She lowered her voice and handed her a small burlap bag. “This is for you. It’s not much, but I managed to grab a loaf of bread, a small wheel of cheese and a few apples. There are also some cotton strips in there for when you have your menses. I had hoped to grab a potion or two, but Grelod must have hidden them.”

Kirsli reached beneath her bed and lifted a broken floorboard to reveal a secret stash. She flashed a watery smile at Constance then stuffed it in her knapsack. She was trying to be brave. “Thank you for everything.” She briefly hugged her. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop fidgeting. Nervous energy had taken over. She dashed about the room, hugging the other children before Grelod could stop her.

Then it was time to go.

The old headmistress known by the all as Grelod the Kind dragged her to door and promptly pushed out into rain. “Good riddance, girl!” Grelod sneered just before slamming the heavy doors behind her.

Kirsli shivered as she gazed at the seedy city through the curtain of pouring rain. To her right sat Mistveil Keep, the seat of power for Jarl Laila Law-Giver. Past it were the large houses owned by some of the more prominent citizens of the city. The Black Briars. The Snow Shods. She also knew the Temple of Mara was nestled amongst that row of splendor. Stretching out in front of her across the canal was the market, where various vendors hawked their wares. Patrons browsed their goods and meandered from stall to stall. Fear gripped her, holding her tight, leaving her unable to move. She had never been so close to so many people before. 

A passing guard who had watched Grelod shove her out into her rain strolled by and prodded her with the hilt of his sword. “No lollygaggin’,” he drolly quipped, shoving her away from the orphanage. “Move along, girl.” 

She let out a yelp, bolting away from him. Terror lent mobility to her paralyzed limbs. She ran blindly, ending up near a small graveyard. The blue dress Grelod had given her was soaking wet with mud stains on the hem. Her heart pounded in her ears. She dashed beneath an archway to escape the pouring rain. Just what was she going to do? She had no coin, nowhere to sleep at night and only a small sack of food. How would she survive long enough to find work? 

A tear slipped down her face. 

What was she to do? 

*~*~*~

Kirsli spent the night huddling in a corner under an archway beneath the Temple of Mara. She stared wide eyed into the darkness, unable to close her eyes as every noise sent them flying back open again. She curled up as tight as she could, trying to avoid the scurrying rats that came too close to her, drawn in by the scent of food and her fear. She had never been so cold in her life or so hungry. Grelod hadn’t fed them very much at the orphanage, but it was more than what she had at this moment. She had allowed herself a few bites of bread and tiny chuck of cheese. Her food had to last until she could find a job.

The rains ceased sometime near dawn. When the sun rose over Lake Honrich and its warmth washed over the rain soaked earth, it was like a renewal. The air had a crispness to it, if you weren’t standing downwind of a smelter. 

The market stirred to life as the vendor’s opened their stalls for another day’s business. Determined not to get scared again, Kirsli pushed herself from her hiding spot. Her back ached in protest as she righted herself. Tonight she’d have to find a different more comfortable spot to rest, maybe even sleep, if she were lucky. She slowly crossed the courtyard in front of the Temple of Mara, turning back to look at it. It was a simple building really, even though it was dedicated to one of the Nine Divines. She would have expected something grander, but maybe it wasn’t because it was here in Riften. If it were grand, the Guild would pick it clean. Or maybe they already had? That wasn’t a comforting thought, really. Kirsli shivered as she came to a bridge that crossed over into the market. 

The cacophonous cries of the vendors assailed her. Each and every one of them was seemingly speaking at once in hopes of outdoing the other. 

“Buy armor and live to tell about it.”

“Beautiful baubles and gleaming gemstones over here!”

“Rare trinkets and the finest oddities from Morrowind!”

“Make love like a sabre cat or learn a library’s worth of knowledge with a bottle of my genuine Falmer Blood Elixir, just 20 septims each.” 

Though she had no money to spend, she timidly joined the rest of the browsers perusing the variety of goods on display. She took her time. She didn’t have anywhere to go and anywhere she had to be. Her tummy rumbled as she neared the food cart vendor. She briefly made eye contact with the female Dunmer merchant before moving away quickly. The temptation to grab something and run was too great. She doubted any of these merchants needed to hire help so she would have to check at the Bee and Barb. She also knew of the Bunkhouse and the Meadery. Riften was also home to a fishery, and general goods store. Hopefully someone would be willing to take her on. She wasn’t afraid of hard work. Grelod had beaten that into her. 

Kirsli crossed through the market, passing by the redheaded man selling the Falmer Blood potions. Something she’d never heard of… what was Falmer Blood and why would anyone drink it? The redheaded man stepped into her path, blocking her way, “A little light on coin, eh now lass? Maybe you’d like a taste?”

She backed up in fright, “No, I don’t want any of that.” Then she scrambled away as fast as her feet could carry her.

The blacksmith, Balimund, had been watching from his forge, shook his head and walked into the market. “Leave the kid alone, Brynjolf. She’s too young for the likes of you to get hold of.”

Brynjolf flashed a grin, “That’s up to her, not you.” 

Balimund glared at the thief and returned to his forge. He had orders to complete, and he knew it did him no good to put his nose where it didn’t belong. It infuriated him when the Guild preyed upon the innocent ones, turning them into thieves or worse. More than one of the orphans had left Honorhall, only to end up a criminal. He had spared Asbjorn that when he had taken him under his wing as his apprentice. It would be a shame if happened to the girl. 

*~*~*

Kirsli stopped running when she reached the town wall. It put her behind Haelga’s Bunkhouse. She didn’t know who that man was nor what he wanted, but something told her it wasn’t anything good. Her stomach growled loudly. She sank to her knees, trying to hold back the tears. She was hungry. She was scared. And she wished she wasn’t all alone. But wishing for something wouldn’t make it happen. She had to do that. She had to have the courage to do that. She wiped her face and forced herself to her feet. Her dress was more mud stained, but she had no way to clean it and no other dress to change into. It would have to do.

Gathering herself, she walked around the front of the Bunkhouse and opened the door. A woman with blonde hair stood at the counter while a girl a few years older than Kirsli swept the floor of the taproom. Kirsli approached the counter, “Hello, I’m Kirsli. I used to live at Honorhall. Constance said I might be able to find a bed here while I look for work.” 

Haelga’s brow furrowed, “Constance told you that, did she? So am I to assume you don’t have any money right now?”

Kirsli shook her head, “I have to find work.” 

“This is not a charity. I can only accept paying customers. Besides the Bunkhouse has no vacancy. It’s not for you. Try the Bee and Barb. Oh, you said, you don’t have money, right? Well, there’s always Beggar’s Row, down in the canal.” Haelga retorted snidely.

“You wouldn’t happen to be hiring. I can cook. I can clean. I can do laundry.” Kirsli replied. 

“If you’re looking for work sweetheart, I’ll put you to work… in my bed.” A male Dunmer called out as he obscenely grabbed his crotch.

Kirsli flushed bright red, looking away from him. The girl already sweeping the floor hissed at him, chastising him to mind his manners.

Haelga shook her head, “I already have a worker for that. You’ll have to look elsewhere. Sorry.”

“Thank you,” Kirsli mumbled, heading for the door. No bed for the night, and no job. Her next stop was the Bee & Barb. The Argonian innkeeper laughed in her face when she asked about a job and demanded ten septims a night for a room. She inquired at the Meadery next only to be bodily tossed out by one of Maven Black Briar’s bodyguard’s. Bolli, the owner of the Fishery, expressed his regret that he couldn’t hire her or anyone else until the contract went through for Markarth. 

So far her luck wasn’t very good. She wandered around the perimeter of the city, picking alchemy ingredients as Constance as suggested. She found different kinds of mountain flowers, nightshade, lavender, butterfly wings, and hastily plucked deathbell from someone’s garden. She knew she shouldn’t have but she was hungry. 

Descending to the lower walkway down next to the canal, she made her way around until she found Elgrim’s Elixir’s. This had to be the alchemist, she thought, as she opened the heavy door and entered. She was greeted by a friendly older woman, “Hello, dear. What can we do for you today?”

Unsure of how to go about it, as she’d never bartered before in her life, she laid out the ingredients that she’d found on the counter in front of her. “I’d like to sell these, if possible.”

“You gathered these yourself, child.” 

Kirsli nodded her head. “I need to buy food. Grelod threw me out of Honorhall because I’m of age now. I don’t know what else to do.” Tears nearly flooded Kirsli’s eyes. 

“What’s your name, child?”

She sniffled, “Kirsli.”

The older woman reached out, tucked her hand under Kirsli’s chin and raised it up so she could look in her eyes, “Kirsli… that is a pretty name. You are a pretty girl, too. I am Hafjorg. My husband is Elgrim. Let me see what you have here. Deathbell, nightshade, lavender, red, blue and purple mountain flowers, and blue butterfly wings, monarch butterfly wings. A decent selection, dearie. I can offer you 20 septims for all of it.” 

Kirsli looked in awe at the coins the older woman handed her. She’d never seen so many in her life. “Thank you, Hafjorg.” 

“You are welcome, dearie. We won’t always be able to buy ingredients from you, but we will do what we can,” replied the older woman as she sorted her purchases into the ingredient bins. 

“Your shop wouldn’t happen to need to hire any help, would it?” Kirsli inquired, hopeful. 

“Sorry, dearie. Elgrim has an apprentice already and I wonder sometimes how we even make enough money to keep the door open as it is. Times are tough right now. If there was a way I could help you, I would.” Hafjorg shook her head. She hated to see someone so young out on the streets without anywhere to go. 

Kirsli tried not to feel dejected, but it was hard. “I understand. I’ll get by somehow.” She turned away, walking to the door.

Hafjorg came out from behind the counter, joining her by the door. She placed her hand on Kirsli’s shoulder. “Do yourself a favor, child. Don’t fall in with the Thieves’ Guild. No good can come of that.”

“You aren’t the first person to tell me that in the last two days. Thank you again, Hafjorg.” Her stomach rumbled loudly. “I’m going to go now.” She slipped out of the door, up the stairs to the Bee & Barb. It was the only place she could get a hot meal. She hated the thought of going in there, but as her stomach protested again, she knew she had to.

Before she entered, she stopped briefly to knock some of the dried mud of her dress. Once inside, she took a seat at a table. The Argonian she’d spoken to earlier, Keerava, bellowed out from behind the bar, “You better have coin, girl. There are no handouts here.” 

The Argonian male, Talen Jei, approached her table, “Tables are for paying customers.”

“I have coin. I’d like to order a meal,” she timidly replied. “What’s on the menu?”

He grinned down at her, “Depends. Are you hungry? Thirsty or both?”

“Both,” she answered as he handed a menu to her. She perused it briefly. “I’ll have the beef stew and milk to drink.” 

“Milk-drinker,” he muttered under his breath as he walked away. “Coming right up.” 

*~*~*

The stew was thick and rich with big chunks of potatoes and carrots. The beef swam in savory broth that warmed her insides. Kirsli took her time eating it, every bite was sheer bliss. Never in her life had she eaten anything like this. Grelod certainly had never served anything this good. Grelod’s stew was watered down and barely had any meat or vegetables at all. 

By the time her bowl was empty and she drank her milk, she noticed the taproom filling up. The male Argonian who had served her swung by her table, “If you are finished, I will have to ask you to vacate the table as we have other guests waiting.” He frowned at her, almost perturbed she was still sitting there.

Kirsli got up and left without a word to him. It was now dusk outside. While the day had been warm and breezy, a chill now filled the air as it blew off the lake. She rubbed her arms, looking around for a better place to sleep besides the one she’d chosen last night. To the left of the Bunkhouse was an empty house. It was locked, and she wasn’t skilled in picking such things. But beyond the house was an overgrown garden with soft patch of grass at the rear. That spot would certainly do if she could find some furs or a bedroll. Maybe the general goods store would have something that wouldn’t cost her very many of her septims. 

The first thing she noticed inside The Pawned Prawn was the Dwarven Urn. She’d never seen the like. The second thing was the difference in attitudes between the proprietors. The man Bersi even went so far as to tell her why his shop was named what it was. His wife, on the other hand, complained endlessly. She found it unusual and made it a point to quickly browse his wares, finding that he did have a packed bed roll in stock, but at a whole 5 septims, it would take a good bit of her money. She weighed her options, though. She could not buy it, and sleep on the ground, possibly becoming ill or she could end up hungry, again possibly becoming ill. In the end she handed him the septims and took the bedroll. 

Bersi reached out to her as she opened the door. He slipped two septims back into her hand with a word of caution not to say anything about the discount. The shopkeeper had heard about her from others today. He couldn’t hire her, but he could do something to help her; anything to keep her from the clutches of the Guild. Kirsli bestowed upon him a watery smile before disappearing into the gathering darkness.

She retreated to the overgrown garden, rolled out the bed she’d bought and prayed to the Nine that it wouldn’t rain. It didn’t look like it would. The skies were clear overhead and the stars twinkled brightly. Though sleep eluded her, for there were still too many strange noises and she held too many fears that some evil miscreant would come along and steal her knapsack. She simply relaxed upon the soft furs of the bedroll and gazed up at the stars.


	2. The Offer

Days passed turning into weeks and weeks into months. Kirsli became more comfortable in and around Riften. She had begun venturing outside the city walls to collect certain ingredients for Hafjorg. She taught herself how to fish. She wasn’t always successful, but she tried. Most of her days were spent doing back breaking work on the Snow Shod farm. She weeded the gardens, chopped wood, harvested crops for very little pay, but she found this was better than digging in the garbage for scraps or going hungry.

The nice blue dress she’d left the orphanage in was filthy and tattered at the hemline. Before too long it’d be nothing but rags. The soles of her boots were falling apart. She didn’t have the coin to replace either. If her boots fell apart, she supposed she’d go barefoot until she could purchase a new pair. Bersi had some in his shop.

There was no work to be done on the Snow Shod farm and Hafjorg wasn’t in need of any alchemy supplies so she spent most of the day lazing around the docks, trying to ignore her hungry belly. She had a few coins so she could go to the Bee & Barb for supper. She could have found some kind of work today, but sitting in the sun felt so wonderful. Days like these were few and far between. 

Heading back within city walls, she circled through the market. In the past few months she had gotten to know most of the merchants in the market. Some of them were nice while others were abrasive. She stopped by Brand Shei’s stall, greeting him, “How are you today?”

“I can’t complain, Kirsli and you? No work today?” He flashed a sympathetic look at her.

She shook her head. “No, Addvild said to come back tomorrow. I’m alright, though. Everyone needs a day off once in a while.” A small smile crossed her face. “All work and no play makes for a dull life, right?”

Brand Shei returned the smile. She was young, couldn’t be much older than sixteen or seventeen. She was quite a beauty, though, especially when she smiled. Her coppery red hair shined brightly in the sunlight, and he imagined she had smooth skin once she was thoroughly clean. It was her eyes that were her most striking feature, one emerald green and the other sapphire blue. He’d never seen anyone with eyes like hers. “I agree.” As beautiful as she was, he was far too old for her and it was best to put such thoughts out of his head. 

“Say Brand Shei, do you have any kind of sturdy boots or shoes in stock?” 

“No, Kirsli, I don’t. Best to check Bersi’s store for that,” he replied as he glanced down at her boots. He winced as he noticed what poor condition hers were in. 

“I will. Thank you. See you later.” She strolled away, passing Grelka by. Next she stopped for a short chat with Madesi about the latest gossip in town before continuing around the circle. She liked the Argonian jeweler. He had given her a small reward for a mammoth’s tusk that had fallen off the back of a wagon which she found and brought to him. Due to that he had also shared his lunch with her a few times as well. Though she tried to avoid Brynjolf, he approached her again. “Thought anymore about my offer, lass? You’ll make more coin than you are now.”

“No, I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.” Kirsli replied as she scurried away towards The Scorched Hammer and ended up running right into Balimund who had been watching the whole confrontation. She looked up at the glowering smith and managed to squeak out an apology.

He glanced down at her, steadying her as he gripped her arm to keep her from falling. “No worries, little one. Is he bothering you?”

She shook her head, “No, not really. I’m fine.”

Balimund glared over at Brynjolf. “I told you to leave her alone. I won’t say it again.” 

Brynjolf grinned, “We’ll see. You know how they end up when they get desperate enough. She won’t be any different.” 

The blacksmith shook his head at the thief’s audacity. He had a pair. That was for sure. He turned his attention back to the girl whose arm he had a hold of as her stomach growled audibly. Her cheeks flushed. “Can you let me go now? I’m okay. I…I need to find some dinner.”

“What’s your name, girl?”

“Kirsli.”

“Inside the house at the hearth you’ll find a kettle of venison stew. Help yourself. If Asbjorn asks what you’re doing, tell him Balimund said it was okay. Go on.” 

She almost couldn’t believe her luck, but she wasn’t going to question it. He’d offered her food. He didn’t have to tell her twice that was for sure. She dashed into the house as quick as she could and just as quick helped herself. The stew was tasty; the fire felt warm and most of all it hadn’t come at a cost… yet. If there was a price hopefully she had the means to pay it. She could always work it off. She wasn’t afraid of that if it kept her away from the Thieves’ Guild. 

*~*~*~

Balimund glanced up from his forge over to the door leading into the house. He’d been keeping an eye on the girl’s progress since she had been so cruelly thrust out of Honorhall. She had come a long way since that scared creature he’d seen that first day and still had a long way to go. She hadn’t fallen in with the wrong crowd. Most people in Riften would ask why he cared. She was nothing to him. No concern of his whatsoever. 

He’d watched her struggle. He knew she worked odd jobs. According to Hafjorg, she collected alchemy ingredients. She worked for the Snow Shods. He had seen her fishing, or attempting to fish. At night he had seen her warming herself by his forge. The Riften guards would chase her away, but she would slink back when the night was at its coldest. She’d curl up in the shadow of the forge with her bedroll, desperately trying to keep warm. Day by day, her dress became dirtier as did she. Yet she kept trying to earn a living honestly instead of taking Brynjolf’s offer. He admired that. It made him believe there were people worth helping, worth saving. 

A couple hours after he sent her into the house, he stopped what he was working on and went inside himself. He found her and Asbjorn sitting at the table, playing a game of cards. 

“No, I like this card,” she giggled as she laid it down. 

Asbjorn chuckled, “Are you sure that’s the card you want to play?” 

Kirsli scratched her head, perusing her cards once again. “I like that card.” 

“Alright,” he grinned, glancing up at Balimund. “She’s never played cards before. Can you believe that?” 

“She came from Honorhall like you did, so yes, I can believe that. Though she probably lived there longer than you did,” Balimund stated. “What game you teaching her?”

“Hearts,” he answered as he laid down his next card. 

“Just take it easy on her, son,” he grinned before heading over to the washbasin. He washed his face and hands then ladled out a bowl of the stew and a half loaf of bread. From a cupboard he grabbed a bottle of Honningbrew Mead before taking a seat near the hearth. 

“I was there for ten years,” Kirsli spoke up. She laid down her next card knowing she wasn’t very good at this game, but it was fun nonetheless and kept her from having to go back out in the cold. “My mother remarried after my father died. I don’t remember him very well. My stepfather brought me here and said they’d be back to get me once they were settled and found work in Whiterun Hold, but they never came back for me.”

“Sorry to hear that, little one. No child should go through that. How old are you now?” Balimund asked, though he was sure he knew what her answer was.

“I’ve had 16 naming days,” she replied, confirming what he thought. “I thank you for the meal. That was generous of you and also with that man in the market. I don’t want to get mixed up in that. I should probably go soon so I can find a good place to sleep.”

Balimund’s brow furrowed. Did he really want to let her go back out on the streets? He knew it might be a bit of a strain, but he hated the thought of her out there alone. “Wait, Kirsli. I heard some news from the Jarl’s son earlier today. Dragons have been spotted around the Rift. I don’t think you should be sleeping outside anymore. In fact, maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement. What I’m trying to say is I could offer you a job. You would work for me, and I would provide you with a roof over your head and food. Looks like you might even need some new clothing as well. What say you?”

Kirsli flashed an uncertain look at him, her eyes full of skepticism, “What kind of work?”

“Cooking, cleaning, that sort of thing and if you wanted to learn to work the forge it could even extend to an apprenticeship like with Asbjorn. You’d learn an honest trade.” Balimund replied, hoping she’d accept. Despite the wary look about her, he didn’t want to see her back out on the streets. 

Kirsli drew in a deep breath. Her mind swirled. This was the kind of thing she’d hoped would happen since she’d been pushed out of Honorhall. She just didn’t think it would. How could she say no? “I accept.”

“Glad to have you, little one. For tonight I suppose you can sleep by the fire here. Tomorrow I can see about building you a proper bed. There is plenty of room for you downstairs in the basement and we’ll make sure you are plenty warm.” Balimund added before he returned his focus to his meal.

“Since you aren’t leaving, I suppose we can finish our game,” Asbjorn chuckled, laying down his next card. 

“Did you finish the leatherwork I gave you?” Balimund asked. 

“Yes, I did.” Asbjorn shook his head. “Told you hours ago. And I also finished scrollwork on the scabbard for the ebony sword.” 

“I’ll need you to make her a pair of sturdy leather boots tomorrow. Those things she’s wearing are falling apart. I’d do it myself, but the Jarl put in a fairly large order for weapons. At this point I’m not sure if they’ll be used in defense of Riften or she plans on donating them to Ulfric’s rebellion.” Balimund groused, pinching the bridge of his nose. The whole mess gave him a headache. He eased back in his chair, enjoying the last sips of his mead before he had to return to the forge for a few more hours. Between the orders piling up and the bed for Kirsli, he’d be lucky to get a moment’s rest.

“Rebellion? What rebellion?” Kirsli asked as her brow furrowed. In all the news she had heard lately, she hadn’t heard anything of a rebellion. 

“Word on the street is that Jarl Ulfric murdered High King Torygg in cold blood by shouting him to death. The Empire had managed to catch him, but a dragon attacked Helgen and Ulfric escaped once more. And he is leading the fight to free Skyrim from the Empire.”

“Shouted… how? I don’t understand what that means,” Kirsli gazed at him with wide eyed disbelief. 

“Shouting, like the Greybeards up on High Hrothgar. He used the Voice against the High King.” Balimund explained. 

“Oh… I’ve never heard of anyone doing that before,” she spoke once it had finally sunk in. “Jarl Laila supports his actions then.”

“Apparently so. She must think he’s in the right to throw her support behind him. She’s not the only one, either. I’ve heard that the Jarls of Dawnstar and Winterhold are also backing Ulfric. I just hope she knows what’s she’s doing. If it all ends badly for Ulfric, it’ll also end badly his supporters. The Empire will then most likely put Maven Black Briar in the Jarl’s seat. I don’t want to see it come to that. Riften will be run entirely by the Thieves’ Guild.” Balimund gritted his teeth. “Bollocks!”

“So there are now dragons in Skyrim and a war brewing,” Kirsli gulped. “I think I liked it better not knowing.”

“Ignorance isn’t always bliss, little one,” Balimund reminded her before he returned to the forge outside. “Best to be prepared. Asbjorn, don’t keep her up very late playing cards. Tomorrow’s a busy day.”

Asbjorn nodded in acknowledgement. This game wouldn’t last much longer anyway. He’d have to teach her something simpler, give her a shot at winning. It was nice having attractive company around the house. Sure was a sight better than the worn out whores who plied their trade out of the Ratway. Kirsli was not the kind of girl you paid for a tumble though. Balimund would tan his hide for sure if he tried to treat her as such. As their final cards were placed on the table, he grinned widely, “I believe I win.” 

“And I believe you know how to play better than I do. Or maybe I should pay better attention to what’s in play. I had fun.” She helped him gather the cards.

“Want to learn another one?” 

Kirsli declined, shaking her head. “I’d like to get some sleep. I do need to gather up a few things where I stashed them, though. They’re not far away, though. I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll go with you… just to make sure you are safe,” he insisted.

She could tell by the look in his eyes that he wouldn’t take no for an answer so she simply accepted that he would be with her. It had been one thing to accept Balimund’s offer, but it was another for his apprentice to see what her life had really been like. Sure, he had been an orphan like her, but he had been one of the lucky ones. Balimund had rescued him from Honorhall, had given him a home and a chance at a good life. She envied him that. 

Kirsli led him out to the docks, mentally dreading that they’d have to pass by Maul. She’d had trouble with the dark haired Nord on multiple occasions. He didn’t like to take ‘no’ for an answer. She didn’t want any trouble tonight, didn’t want anything to ruin her good fortune. 

Maul spoke up as they got close, “How’s my favorite ragamuffin? Don’t tell me you’ve brought your own trick to the hidey hole? He’ll never satisfy like I can.” 

“Get out of our way, Maul,” Kirsli gritted through her teeth as her cheeks burned red with sheer humiliation. _How dare that bastard! How dare he make it sound like I’d invited it!_ Tears scolded her eyelids, threatening to spill down her grimy cheeks. 

“Trust a two-bit thug to harass a young lady. Move before I move you out of our way,” Asbjorn spoke up. 

Maul erupted in laughter, “Go play with your hammer, boy. Maybe hide behind the _scary_ blacksmith while you’re at it.”

Asbjorn glared at Maul, “Come on, Kirsli. Ignore him. Let’s just get your belongings.” He pushed past Maul as Kirsli led him around the Riften Warehouse nearly to the end of a dilapidated dock. She knelt down, pulled a piece of broken masonry from the side of the building and squeezed through to the other side. When she re-emerged she was carrying what looked to be a bedroll and a worn knapsack. “I found that spot a while back. If I’m quiet I can usually hide from Sarthas and his miscreant band that sell Skooma,” she sheepishly admitted. 

He could see the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. He knew her situation hadn’t been easy for her, but she had nothing to be ashamed of. “We do what we must to survive, but worry no more. Maul will never hurt you again. You’re safe now. Balimund will see to it that you are taken care of. He has taught me everything I know about working a forge and he can help you as well. You’ll see. Just trust him.” His easy going smile was contagious. 

She cracked a shy smile, bravely trying to hide the shame she felt. “You won’t tell Balimund, will you? I didn’t… want…” her voice cracked and she couldn’t continue on.

“No, Kirsli, your secret is safe with me. It’s not my place,” He reassured her with a gentle smile as well as a gentle hand cupping her face. “Come on, let’s head back. I bet you would probably enjoy a hot bath before bed, am I right?”

Her eyes lit up. Such a thing would be heavenly. 

“I can drag out the hip tub and heat you up some water. We don’t use it all that often, usually just wash up in the washbasin, but I can’t expect a young lady to do that. So don’t worry. I will take care of that.” 

A hot bath. Surely she’d been blessed.


	3. The Dragonborn Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirsli settles in and a beautiful stranger appears at Balimund's forge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took what the Windhelm smith says about Eorlund and the Skyforge and applied that to Balimund instead. It fit the story. Plus I like Balimund a whole lot better than the smith in Windhelm. 
> 
> The NPC Dragonborn is introduced in this chapter. She makes quite the impression. 
> 
> Chapter Four will be a continuation of this chapter, a part 2 really. I'm currently working on it and hope to have it finished soon.

For the first time in months Kirsli was clean and warm. She had forgotten how good it felt. It had been heaven sinking into the tub of hot water. He’d even given her soap that smelled of lavender. She washed her hair twice. It just meant so much to her to be clean again. After she’d rinsed off thoroughly, she’d stepped out of the tub and reached for the length of toweling Asbjorn had left for her to dry off with. It was made from tundra cotton and caressed her skin like a warm breeze. 

Remembering that he’d told her to leave the tub, which he’d take care of Kirsli quickly dried off and dressed in the oversized shirt he’d given her. It must have been one of Balimund’s old shirts, for it was patched in the sleeves and covered her to her knees. Still it was better than anything she possessed. Tomorrow she’d have to wash the linen gown she had slept in while she still lived at the orphanage. Plus she needed new clothes. Perhaps she could now afford them since she wouldn’t have to worry about food. 

Kirsli climbed the ladder from the basement to the main floor of the house and returned to the fireplace. Lying in front of it was a pallet of furs, a pillow and a soft blanket. Asbjorn sat in his chair nearby, sipping a pint of mead. “I don’t mean to offend you, Kirsli, but I went to roll out your bedroll in front of the fire and it was filthy. So I tossed it out. You don’t have to sleep on such things anymore,” he said.

A delicate stain of pink crept into her cheeks and she averted her eyes. Of course it was filthy. She was filthy. It’s what happened when you slept on the ground and in alleyways and on the docks. She chewed on her lip, darting into the furs. She pulled the top blanket over her head and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. He’d never had to live the life that she had. He might have been an orphan, but he found a home and had learned a trade. Didn’t he know how truly lucky he was?

Sleep took what seemed like hours to find her. Usually she couldn’t sleep because she was shivering too much and afraid someone would hurt her or steal from her while her eyes were closed. But tonight her mind would not quiet. She’d learned the hard way the ways of men. What if there was more to the blacksmith’s offer than just someone to cook and clean? For an older man, he was very attractive. He was also kind and generous. She knew she shouldn’t be thinking that way. It would bring her nothing but trouble. 

*~*~*~

It was nearly midnight by the time Balimund came in from the forge. He was tired. His back and shoulder ached from pounding hot steel all day long. His adopted son was still by the fire, reading a book and nursing a bottle of Honningbrew. He ventured a glance down at the girl. She was fast asleep, her coppery hair spread across her pillow like a veil of flame. Her cheeks were rosy red, likely from the warmth of the fire. He noticed a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She was a beauty. He shook his head, corralling those thoughts before they got away from him. She was far too young. 

“I figured you’d be asleep by now,” he said to Asbjorn, who looked up from his book. 

The young apprentice rubbed his face, “I tried, but sleep eluded me. Too much on my mind, I guess.”

“What seems to be wrong?” Balimund took a seat in the chair he’d occupied earlier. He watched intently as his adopted son nodded his head at the girl on the floor. 

“Have you ever found out something about someone and then they ask you not to tell anyone?” Asbjorn asked as his eyes lingered on the sleeping girl. “I said I wouldn’t, but some things just aren’t right. I can’t get it out of my head.”

“What has she done that she doesn’t want me to know?” The older smith asked. “I assume that’s what this is about?”

“It’s not what she’s done. It’s what’s been done to her. She’s just a kid,” Asbjorn growled. 

“Tell me who?”

“Maven’s two-bit thug Maul,” the younger man groused. “She admitted he’d forced himself on her and from the sound of it, it wasn’t just once. I told her it wasn’t her fault.”

“Don’t let on that you told me and let me deal with it. If Maul thinks he can get away with it, he’ll soon find out differently.” Balimund promised, relaxing his white-knuckle grip on the arm of the chair. “I’m glad you did tell me. I want her to feel safe here.”

Asbjorn nodded then changed the subject, “So did I hear Haelga out there bothering you again couple hours ago?”

Balimund rolled his eyes, “That woman is persistent. She asked if I’d join her for a late supper.”

Asbjorn guffawed, “What was on the menu?”

“Pie,” The burly blacksmith flashed a wicked grin. “I told her if you roll around in the dirt with the skeevers, you get fleas. And I wasn’t about ride in the same saddle as Hofgrir or anyone else she’d practiced her ‘Dibellan arts’ with. She took off in a rush.”

“I’d have liked to have seen her face. At least the whores down in the Ratway are honest about what they do.” Asbjorn replied. “I think the bed is calling my name. Tomorrow once I’m done with what you need me to do I may pop over to Honorhall and pay Constance a visit. See if she’ll join me for a dinner at the Bee and Barb, if that old bitty Grelod will give her a few hours off.” 

“Rumor has it the Dark Brotherhood has a hit out on Grelod. I don’t condone murder, but if ever there was someone who deserved death, it would be that miserable old crone.” Balimund’s upper lip curled in a sneer. 

“Who’d you hear that from?” 

“Guardsman Sigfrost.”

“The children would be much better off if Constance ran that place. There’s so much she wants to do to make things better, but Grelod won’t let her,” he grimaced. “Ah, hells. I’m going to bed. ‘Night.”

“If that rumor is true, the old crone will be dead soon enough,” Balimund chuckled. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’m not going to put my hopes on a rumor. Grelod is evil and evil just doesn’t die easily. She’ll probably outlive us all out of spite,” he scowled as he trudged off to bed. 

Balimund’s soft laughter followed Asbjorn to his room. _Where that boy got some of his ideas was beyond him?_ Pushing out of the chair, he groaned as his sore muscles, back and knees protested. He knew Asbjorn had dragged in the tub for Kirsli. A long soak would feel good on his achy body, but the effort to get there almost didn’t make it worth it. He could always work some liniment into what was aching… _No, that wasn’t appealing._ Maybe he should have taken Haelga up on her offer. She could have been persuaded into giving a massage. _No, just no._ He corrected himself. He wasn’t that desperate. Not by a long shot. A bath it was.

He gathered up soap, tundra cotton towels and clean clothes to sleep in, then headed to the basement. The empty tub sat where Asbjorn had left it after he had dumped it out. Once he’d filled it with enough buckets of water, he plunged his hand with the tepid water and called forth fire to his hand. Like most Nords, Balimund knew a few low level destruction spells, like this one that produced flames. He’d lived long enough to remember the Great War. He didn’t quite trust magic and mages, but for small things it had its uses. Soon the water was warmed to a nice steamy temperature. 

Removing his soiled blacksmithing garments, he sank down into the tub with a loud sigh. _Ah, this felt heavenly._ Relaxing, he closed his eyes, enjoying the heat soothing his back and shoulders. After a good soak, he quickly scrubbed clean then climbed out. He grabbed one of the towels, drying the water droplets from his skin before reaching for his clothes. Hastily he dressed then dumped the water down a small drain built into the floor of the basement at the back wall. He was ready for sleep. He headed back upstairs, making his way to his bedroom. 

He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

*~*~*

Balimund looked up from the anvil he was hammering a molten length of steel upon to catch sight of a blond haired Nord woman watching him. She was wearing well cared for studded armor and enigmatic grin. He returned it, mirth twinkling in his eyes. “Come to see Balimund work miracles with steel?”

“There’s just something… about watching a man work a forge,” she purred, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. 

_Was she flirting?_ No, couldn’t be. “I owe my success to my forefather’s secret for flame. The forge consumes fire salts, a strange mineral that burns as hot as Red Mountain lava.”

“That is very impressive,” her eyes raked over the forge then slowly over every inch of him.

He smirked, “It was. Sadly it’s dying and I’ve used the last of my fire salts. If I don’t feed it soon, it’ll grow cold.” 

“What does the fire salts do? And how much fire salts would you need to keep it alive?” She questioned, pursing her lips as her eyes dropped back to the forge. 

“It makes anything forged here stronger. As for how much,” he said as he mentally calculated the amount of salts he’d need. “Ten pinches would bring the forge roaring back to life.”

She pulled the pack from her back and dug out a large pouch. “I dabble in alchemy, so let me check my supplies and see if I have any.” Opening it she perused the contents. “Hmm, ah… maybe… no, that’s vampire dust. Ah, here’s some… no, those are void salts. Looks like I don’t have any at the moment, but I will get them for you. I promise.”

“That would be very kind of you,” Balimund smiled. “Can I do anything else for you, today?”

“Oh yes, actually. I stopped to see about a repair. What I’m wearing is my back-up armor. My name is Aria Winterbourne. I’m with the Companions of Jorrvaskr… not a full Companion yet, though. Just a whelp,” she explained as she pulled out the cuirass of a suit of scaled horn leather. “I was down here in the Rift on a job. I was expecting to deal with one, maybe two cave bears… not four. Well, my good armor is damaged and while I could trek back across country and have Eorlund repair it, Grosta at Heartwood Mill highly recommended I bring it to you.”

He smiled as he reached for the armor she handed him. A Companion was asking him to repair her armor when she could have taken it to Eorlund Gray-Mane. Pride surged through him. Everyone thought Eorlund was the best smith in Skyrim, but it was only because he had the good fortune to work the Skyforge. Balimund begged to differ. He was the best smith and he’d put his work up against Eorlund’s or anyone else any day of the week to prove it. “Let me see that,” he said as he looked it over. His wide grin turned into a grimace as he caught sight of the large rips rending the armor where the bears had torn into it with their claws. “I assume your flesh came out of this unscathed since your armor didn’t.”

“Not entirely. I’ve a few days to heal. Even added a new scar to the collection,” she joked. “That just means I’ll have a story to tell when I get back to the mead hall and that cave netted me four more pelts, bringing my total up to nine. One more and I can turn them into Temba in Ivarstead for a reward. She also runs a mill and she really hates bears.” 

Balimund chuckled along with her then scratched his head. “I could repair this, but with the damage being so substantial, it compromises the integrity. It may not protect you as well in the future. Your best bet is a new suit. I have armor like this that I crafted myself and since you’ve promised to bring me the fire salts, I’ll make you a deal.”

“And that deal is?” She raised an eyebrow, but she could guess what he was going to say. 

“An exchange. The fire salts for the armor,” he offered. “What do you say?”

Aria smiled at her, “And if I take the armor and never return the fire salts, then what?”

“I’m out a suit of armor and my forge goes cold, but I could contact the Companions and say that one of their whelps ripped me off. From what I’ve heard of them, they’re all about honor, and doing the right thing. Would they make you a full member then?” The burly smith asked. 

“I would never do that. I promised you fire salts and I shall deliver them. I shall not besmirch the honor of the Companions. Shor’s beard, I’d never live it down,” her response was very animated, her hands moving rapidly in front of her as she dithered in place. “I don’t think I could _bear_ seeing any disappointment in Kodlak’s eyes. Or Skjor’s.”

“Let me show you the armor.” Balimund led her inside where he pulled the piece in question from an armor rack. “You can use the room back through there to try it on. Then I can make adjustments to it.”

Aria entered a tidy bedroom, realizing it probably belonged to Balimund. She closed the door behind her, casually eyeing the space before her. A dresser, a safe, a tall wardrobe, a chair and bed made up the room. From what she had noticed of the small house, there weren’t many womanly touches despite the teenage girl she’d seen sweeping the floor in the main room, suggesting this was a bachelor house. Or perhaps he was a widower and the teenager was his daughter. He certainly was attractive. Big and burly just as she liked them. Just like Farkas. Having an intelligent conversation with Balimund was a plus. Though what Farkas lacked in language skills he made up for in other ways. He had other tantalizing uses for his tongue. She felt her nether regions quiver just thinking about it. _Focus, Aria, focus,_ she chastised herself. _You can ride Farkas once you get home._

Removing the armor she had on, she tried on the suit he’d given her. It needed the laces tightened to snug up the waist. Maybe taken in at the hips, but the other than that, it was a good replacement. The quality was some of the best she’d ever seen. It made her wonder what a man like Balimund with his skill could produce if given the chance to work the Skyforge. Would he surpass Eorlund? Possible. 

She left the room, finding him near the hearth talking with Asbjorn. She softly cleared her throat to gain his attention. Balimund turned and eyed the fit critically. “I’d say that doesn’t need a whole lot of adjustment. This is Asbjorn, my son. He’s going to assist me.”

“Nice to meet you, Asbjorn. I’m Aria,” she smiled and hopped up on a small stool Balimund between them. “And is she your daughter? She’s so pretty. You must be a proud papa. Are you married? Have a wife somewhere?” 

Balimund cocked an eyebrow at her as he worked on the laces, tightening the cuirass. He chuckled softly, “No, that’s Kirsli. She’s not my daughter. You can say I've sort of adopted her. She was an orphan and I’ve taken her in to get her off the streets. Gave her a job. And no, not married. Never settled down. I guess I’ve never found anyone I wanted to spend my life with.”

“Balimund adopted me from Honorhall and taught me everything he knows,” Asbjorn spoke up. “Hopefully I’ll pass everything I’ve learned from him onto my son if I have one someday.” 

Aria grinned at Balimund, “If I may be so bold as to say, I find it hard to believe that some woman hasn’t snatched you up. The women in this city must be blind.”

A crash sounded alongside the breaking of glass from behind them. Three heads turned immediately, focusing six eyes on the bottle of Alto wine shattered on the floor. Kirsli squeaked, grabbing the dust pan in a frantic attempt to clean it up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to break it. I… I bumped the table and it fell.” 

She shook like a leaf as she collapsed to her knees, yelping as pieces of glass pierced her flesh. Both Balimund and Asbjorn rushed to her side, picking her up and sitting her in a nearby chair. Kirsli continued her frantic apologizing. 

“Shhh…it’s fine, little one. No harm done. Let me see that knee.” Balimund said in a gentle voice as he pushed the hem of her dress up so he could get a good look. “It’s not very deep. Hold still. I’ll get it out.”

As Balimund gathered the necessary things to pluck the glass from her skin, Asbjorn grabbed the broom, cleaning up the rest of the glass. Once the glass was gone, he wiped down the area with a wet cloth to remove the stickiness. Last thing he wanted was for that spot to attract ants or any other kind of insect. Once Balimund made it back, he knelt before her. Then he began to pluck out the pieces. Kirsli whimpered as tears streamed down her face. Once he’d removed them all, he gently cleansed the wounds, slathered salve over them and wrapped her knee in a bandage. “There you go, little one. Be more careful.”

“S-s sorry. I didn’t mean to,” she whispered tearfully. “I was watching a butterfly outside the window.”

Balimund smiled as he pulled her close and hugged her. In so many ways she was still so innocent despite things that happened to her. “You didn’t hurt anything, Kirsli. That bottle’s been sitting there for months. Haelga dropped it off with one of her invitations. Things look good in here. Why don’t you take a break? Take a walk and enjoy the sun.” 

Kirsli’s eyes flitted around the room, happiness spreading through her that he’d noticed all her hard work this morning. She turned shining eyes upon him, and smiled, “I will. I wonder if the Khajiit are still camped out by the stables. I like Ahkari. She’s always been nice to me.” 

“Just stay away from the docks, alright?” He pinned a look at her. 

Kirsli nodded at him, “I will. I’ll head out through the main gate. I planned on stopping at the stables anyway. Maybe Shadr will let me pet the horses.”

“You aren’t going barefoot, are you?” Balimund glanced down at her toes poking out from the hem of her dress. He turned to Asbjorn, “How close are you to finishing the boots I asked you to make her?”

“I’ve got them cut out. They have to be sewn together and fitted, and the soles attached.” 

Balimund left the room and headed into his bedroom, stopping at the safe. He worked the lock on it and once it was open reached in, grabbing a pouch of coins. From within he withdrew twenty septims and returned to Kirsli. “Go to Bersi’s. He should have boots and clothing in stock. Buy what you need to clothe yourself. If there’s anything left over, keep it.”

Kirsli beamed a smile at him and hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Balimund.” Then she dashed out the door.

Aria chose to speak up, “She’s a whirlwind, isn’t she? I was going to tell her that the Khajiit were still outside a few hours ago when I entered the city. I traded some goods with Ahkari. She’s a shrewd trader, but they always have nice wares. Plus there’s Khar’jo, he is great warrior. I’ve tried to convince him to join the Companions. So far he’s declined. It’s a shame they aren’t allowed in the cities. How a few bad apples spoil the entire barrel? Oh, listen to me, I probably sound naïve.” 

“Sounds like you have a good heart,” Balimund commented as he resumed work on adjusting the armor. “You might not want to hang around Riften too much. This city has a way of turning good hearts bad. Hate to see that happen to you.” He gave her a wink. 

“You aren’t kidding. The guards at the gate tried to charge me a visitor’s tax. I growled at them and they let me through. Then some thug who works for Maven Bitch Briar had the nerve to ask me what I was doing in Riften. Pardon my language, but I told him to go fuck himself sideways, that he didn’t want to tangle with the Companions. I think he tucked his tail between his legs and ran away to the docks like a whipped hound.”

Balimund and Asbjorn let loose a gale of hearty laughter. “Serves him right, I’d say. Maven backs the Guild so they think they run things around here, but they’ve been in decline for years.”

“Well, maybe the Companions need to make it a point to get rid of them. After all, we do like to eradicate vermin. I’ll speak to the Skjor and the Inner Circle about it,” Aria grinned. 

“I think that’ll do it for the adjustments. If you’ll be so kind as to put your other armor back on I can make them permanent.” 

Aria nodded and hastened to his request. She brought the scaled horn armor back out to him several minutes later and followed him out to the forge. He skillfully finished the armor for her at the worktable. “Wear it well, Aria Winterbourne. I’ll be awaiting those fire salts.”

“I’ll have them for you before you know it. I know I have some at home. Though I fear I’ll have to disappoint my housecarl Lydia. She likes dumping the salts into bathwater to make it fizzy and warm. I think saving your forge is much more important,” Aria giggled. 

“And I thank you,” he replied. “I know Jorrvaskr is in Whiterun. You spoke of a housecarl so I assume you don’t live within the Companions mead hall.”

“They gave me a bed there, but I rarely use it. I own a home in the city, down near the gates. Actually it’s right next to Warmaiden’s. I was granted a housecarl because I helped defend Whiterun against a dragon attack. It was just me, Jarl Balgruuf’s housecarl Irileth and a few guardsmen, but we killed it. It was exhilarating. _Me_ standing on top on the Western Watchtower with a crappy bow I’d salvaged from Helgen, shooting arrows at this thing and it’s breathing fire all around me. It’s a miracle I came out of it alive.” Aria’s thoughts drifted back to that fateful day. She could hear it speak, feel it in her soul, could almost understand what it said with every beat of her heart. Like it was on the tip of her tongue. As the dragon finally crashed to the ground, riddled with a multitude of arrows protruding from its vulnerable underbelly, it began to glow. The glow blinded her as it streamed forth, engulfing her, enrapturing her in light. It filled her with an ancient knowledge, stirring what was dormant in her blood. She felt as weightless as the air yet as heavy as the mountain. She was all and nothing at the same time. 

“I’d say Kynareth was with you. That’s quite a story. You mentioned Helgen. Does that mean you were there during the dragon attack as well?” He leaned against his workbench, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He knew he had a lot of work to do, but he was enjoying the chance to talk to this beautiful, very charming woman. 

“The one that leveled the town,” she replied. “Oh yes, I had the extreme misfortune to be there alongside a horse thief and two carts full of Stormcloak rebels, including one Jarl Ulfric himself. I wasn’t supposed to be there. I was trying to return to Skyrim after spending the last several years in Cyrodiil. I had documents authorizing me to cross the border, but there was an attack by bandits and they stole my belongings. Next thing I know I get caught up in an Imperial ambush. I don’t know why they thought I was with Ulfric and his men. I wasn’t wearing anything remotely similar. Didn’t matter. They tossed me into the wagon alongside Ulfric, the horse thief and another Stormcloak soldier. Hauled us off to Helgen. Next thing I know my head’s on the chopping block and a big black dragon attacked. I ran for it after that. Didn’t look back. An Imperial soldier named Hadvar helped me make to Riverwood. From there I headed to Whiterun on behalf of his uncle Alvor, who is the blacksmith there. He asked me to have the Jarl send soldiers to protect the town. Then the Jarl asks me to do something for his wizard who is researching dragons. So I delve into Bleak Falls Barrow to recover a ‘Dragonstone.’ It’s a record of all the dragon burial mounds in Skyrim. I do that, bring it back and the Jarl tells me I can buy property in the city. So I joined the Companions as a way to make money. That was several months ago.” 

He gives her a wide-eyed look, “I have to say that you are a very brave woman. Fighting a dragon. Most people would just run.” 

“Most people would also end up as the dragon’s lunch,” Aria remarked wryly. “I’m not particularly fond of them, but when a Jarl tells you to go fight a dragon, what are you supposed to do? All I can say is the celebration in the mead hall after that was pretty rowdy.”

Balimund let loose a deep husky laugh that made her petals quiver and weep. She knew she should probably take her leave before she made a fool of herself. Then the husky laugh subsided and he smiled at her, “I should probably get back to work. Orders aren’t going to fill themselves. Will you be in Riften long?”

“I only came into the city for the armor repair. Why do you ask?” Aria raised a finely sculptured brow. 

“Would you be interested in having dinner with me? Keerava at the Bee and Barb is a fine cook.”

Her smile brightened, “I’d love to, but I should probably head back to Whiterun or else Skjor may send out a search party. So how about a raincheck?”

He wasn’t sure if she was brushing him off despite all her flirting. “If you aren’t interested, just say so,” he replied perhaps a bit too bluntly. He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice, but failed miserably.

Her eyes narrowed and she slightly cocked her head, “I am interested. What makes you think I’m not? Don’t take what I said as a rejection. Think of it as a promise for another time. I’ll definitely be back to Riften. Right now is a busy time for me. Proving myself worthy enough to be inducted into their ranks as a full Companion takes dedication.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He’d spoken out of turn and had made an ass out of himself. He’d just met her. He had no right to be possessive of her. “I apologize then and look forward to collecting that raincheck.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon then. Take care, Balimund.” Aria winked at him before she sauntered away, her curvaceous backside swinging like a bell.

He watched her like a hawk, groaning as a certain part of him uncomfortably swelled to life. Thank Talos for the heavy apron he wore. Of all the things he could’ve imagined happening today, he never would’ve thought someone like her would walk into his life. 

With what little blood that hadn’t rushed south remaining in the analytical part of his brain reminded him that everything happened for a reason. Maybe it was time he gave up his bachelorhood and finally settled down.

Aria had certainly captured his attention.


	4. The Dragonborn Comes Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dragonborn makes a statement.

Kirsli dashed across the center market square to Bersi’s store, clutching the money Balimund gave her tightly. She didn’t want to lose any of it. She nearly crashed headlong into Maven who was exiting the Meadery. Maven hissed, bestowing a scathing look at Kirsli, “Watch where you‘re going, girl! Look at yourself, running about without shoes and in a tattered dress. Filth like you shouldn’t show their face in public.”

Maven’s hurtful words cut deep and Kirsli fought back the tears, “I have money to buy new stuff.”

“Did you steal it?”

“No!”

Maven scoffed at her, “Don’t lie to me, girl. You don’t want to cross me.” The Black Briar matriarch grabbed hold of Kirsli’s arm and attempted to pry her clenched hand open.

“I didn’t steal it. Balimund gave it to me.” Kirsli jerked her arm free with all the strength she possessed. “I work for him now.”

“It figures. He always was the kind to take in strays. Now run along and stay out of my way, brat.”

Kirsli didn’t have to be told twice. She made a face at Maven, blowing her a raspberry, and ran to the door of the Pawned Prawn. She could hear Maven’s cry of outrage behind her. Once inside she skipped up to the counter and beamed a smile at Bersi. “Hello, Bersi! How are you today?”

He returned her smile, “I’m good. You’re looking well. I hear you’re staying at Balimund’s now. I hope that works out for you. What can I do for you today?”

She set the gold septims Balimund gave her on the counter, “I need to see your supply of ready to wear clothing and shoes, too. My boots fell apart and Asbjorn hasn’t finished the leather ones Balimund told him to make for me.”

He directed her to an armoire. “Everything I have for sale is in here. If there’s one you like and want to purchase, I’ll need to know your size so I can bring it out of backstock.”

A pair of brown ankle boots caught her eye and she placed them on the counter. She choose a green and brown dress similar to the blue one she wore then picked out a moss green belted tunic and khaki trousers. Wearing pants would come in handy for hunting alchemical supplies. She placed them on the counter. She turned to Bersi. “Do I have enough? I have more money in my knapsack. I’ll have to go get it.”

“You won’t need it. The boots, dress, tunic and trousers only come to twelve septims.” He handed the other eight back to her. “Let me get you the correct sizes from the back. Even the smallest size I have in those may be too big for you.”

“I can take them in, if needed,” she shrugged.

Bersi disappeared through a door next to his counter. She browsed the rest of his shelves while she waited, adding a sweetroll to her order. Bersi returned several minutes later and wrapped her purchases. She noted he didn’t charge her for the sweetroll. She left the shop and ran back to the Scorched Hammer. Once inside, she washed her feet and changed into the new tunic and trousers. The fit was just right. Then she slipped the boots on her feet. Once she left again, she noted Balimund and the blond haired woman were still out by the forge. Kirsli had forgotten to find out if the Khajiit were outside the gates, but she’d find out soon enough.

Strolling through the city on the way to the gates, she savored the sweetroll, smacking her lips after each bite.

“Save any for me?”

She turned at the sound of the voice. It was Tythis. Holding out her hand, she gave him the last bite. He grinned at her as he fell in step with her. “That was tasty, poppet. Maybe even as tasty as you are.”

Kirsli rolled her eyes at him, “What do you want, Tythis?”

“Just wondering where you were headed and if you had some free time,” he placed his hand on her backside and fondled her. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

She jerked away, hissing at him. “Stop touching me.”

He grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her through one of the open wrought iron gates that led behind the Bunkhouse. Then he pushed her against the wall and shoved a knee between her legs. One of his hands covered her mouth while the other groped at her chest. “You weren’t protesting a few days ago. You let me do whatever I wanted to you, poppet. Do you think you’re too good for me now that you’ve gotten yourself a new protector? Haven’t you heard? It’s the talk of Riften. Are you bedding the blacksmith or are you pretending to be the innocent little victim?”

“I don’t have to pretend,” Kirsli said as he removed his hand. “You’d better let me go or else I’ll scream.”

“You will not,” he taunted and squeezed the breast he’d been groping.

“I will. I’m not bluffing, Tythis. I did what I had to do to survive. Now I don’t have to and you won’t ruin it for me. Besides do you really think Balimund will believe you over me when all I have to do is turn this face and these eyes at him?” She blinked hard to produce tears and put a sad look on her face.

“You are something else, poppet. Maybe you should take Brynjolf up on his offer. The way you’re going, you’d fit right in with the Thieves Guild.” He let go of her and started to walk away.

Kirsli charged after him, anger clouding her dual colored eyes. “Doing what one must in order not to starve doesn’t mean I’d become a thief. You haven’t lived my life. You don’t know what it’s like to be abandoned, to be an orphan. You know damn well you took you wanted and it didn’t matter to you that I didn’t want it,” she hissed at him in a low voice before she ran off through the main gates.  


She didn’t stop running until she reached the shoreline of Lake Honrich. How dare Tythis! What a jerk! She slowly strolled along the lake, calming her anger. She couldn’t go back to the smithy like this. She passed Dravis Llanith’s farm and headed toward the lake trail. She could pick flowers. That would calm her emotions.

As she neared the small inlet she came upon something she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle all on her own. She needed someone stronger.

~*~*~*

Aria could still feel the blacksmith’s eyes upon her as she strolled away. She knew she was a bad, bad girl for leading him on, but she couldn’t help it. She had a weakness for strong, burly men that made a living with their muscles. Or in his case, his hands. And he had strong hands, a nice touch. She groaned inwardly. Her nipples hardened into little dagger points at the thought of turning around, tying him to something and having her wicked, wily ways with him until she was thoroughly satisfied. 

_Bad Aria,_ she scolded. Think of Farkas. Think of Farkas waiting for you to return. He promised a surprise. Sweet Farkas. He may not be all there in the brain department, but he made up for it in other places. 

She knew if she wanted to make it back to Whiterun before it got too late, she’d better be heading out. At least she’d ridden her horse this time. 

“Never did an honest day’s work for all that coin you’re carrying, eh lass?” A smooth voice interrupted her delightful thoughts. 

Aria stopped in her tracks, turning her gaze upon the ginger haired man with a lazy grin on his face standing nearby. He wore an expensive blue outfit and had been touting some miracle cure. She raked her eyes up and down him, sizing him up just as she was sure he had done the same to her. She smiled at him, moving closer, “Trust a thief to speak of honest work,” she quipped. “Dress it up however you like sweetheart, but that still won’t wash the stink of the Ratway off. I’m a Companion of Jorrvaskr. I wouldn’t stoop so low.”

“Blessed by a member of the high and mighty Companions, are we? Aren’t we lucky? I’ve met those who’ve counted themselves amongst the ranks of Jorrvaskr before. One of them was even ranked amongst the Inner Circle. He now calls the Brotherhood his home. If you’re ever looking for more excitement than killing beasts and beating up troublemakers, come find me.”

Her brow cocked, feeling the Thu’um rumble within her voice as she spoke, “Troublemakers, eh?” She backed up away from him, almost to Brand Shei’s stall. One hand tossed her long hair over her shoulder while the other clenched on her out thrust hip. “My Shield-Brother always says it’s kinda fun to push people around. Especially the ones who deserve it.” 

Brynjolf set the potion bottle aside and took a few steps toward her. His brow furrowed. She was obviously posturing, seemed to be up to something. 

**_“FUS RO DAH!”_ **

The Thu’um erupted from her throat like a thunderous roar, hitting the ginger thief square in the chest. It knocked him back through his stall, slamming him against the half wall behind it. His head cracked against the stone, knocking him out. He slumped to the ground in a heap. 

Everyone in the marketplace stopped and stared as a couple of the Riften guard rushed toward her with swords drawn. She leveled a look at them as they surrounded her then began laughing hysterically, “Really? You. Are. Town. Guards. I. Am. The. Dragonborn. Think about it.”

Balimund walked over, giving the guards a stern look. “Brynjolf was harassing her. You all know how he is when anyone new comes into the city. I saw it all. You can’t arrest her for defending herself.”

“I don’t care if you are Dragonborn or Talos himself reborn. You shouldn’t be using those shouts in the city. It’s dangerous. You could catch an innocent bystander in the crossfire.”

“Actually it’s Ysmir, Dragon of the North.” Aria corrected the guard. 

“What?”

“I’m Ysmir, Dragon of the North, so named by the Greybeards. I will endeavor to not use my shouts in the city again. Will that make you happy, guard boy?” Aria sneered, allowing the power of the Thu’um to rumble through her voice once again. “As for your snake oil salesman over there, he’ll wake up in a bit. He’ll have quite a headache. Let it be a lesson to him. I let him off easy. He’d be dead if I put my full power behind that shout.”

She whirled around and stalked out of the city, daring the guard to chase after her. The guards didn’t, but the blacksmith did. He caught up to her as she was saddling her horse. 

“That was quite the display,” he commented with the twinkle in his eye. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more delighted to see someone get what’s coming to them.”

Aria flashed a wry grin, “My pleasure.” She cinched the belly strap and waited a few moments. Then gently nudged the horse’s underbelly with her knee. The horse exhaled with a grumble and Aria was able to cinch the strap all the way tight. “Damn infernal horse likes to bloat her belly with air so the saddle cinch doesn’t tighten properly. She thinks it’s funny when her saddle and rider flies off when she hits a dead run.” 

Balimund bestowed upon her a smile, “Tell me you’ve heard this one. There was this smith who met a very charming lady one day and asked her to dinner. Turns out she’s the Dragonborn.”

Aria nodded, “Yes, I am. I usually like to let someone get to know me for me before I dump that sack of cats on them. I am just wary about being used for what I am. People treat me differently when they learn I’m the Dragonborn. I’m really not some legendary Nordic hero. Do you have any idea how many invitations I’ve received to join the Stormcloak rebellion from Jarl Ulfric since the Greybeards summoned me to High Hrothgar? At least one every week. He doesn’t even have a clue that who I am, though. All he wants is the power of the Dragonborn. Skyrim will become a tropical paradise before I take Jarl Ulfric’s side. The way the bastard runs his city…well let’s just say, there’s no way I’d give him a whole country when he can’t even see to the needs of all of his citizens. That’s why I like being a part of the Companions. To them, I’m just a whelp.”

He studied her intently. All that power yet so very humble. The more he found out about her, the more he liked. The more he wanted to know. “I think I understand, but why make such a show of your power? Wouldn’t it have sufficed to leave it at being a Companion? You may have created an enemy. You mess with the Guild, and Maven may get involved. And she has ties to the Dark Brotherhood.”

“I don’t fear Maven or the Dark Brotherhood. I’m Dragonborn. I breathe fire.” She winked at him.

“Even dragons can be killed,” he reminded her as he reached out and gently cupped her face in his hand. “I know I just met you, but I don’t want to see that happen to you.” 

She winced slightly at the feel of his rough palm. He pulled his hand away, “Sorry, blacksmith hands.”

“I like your hands. I could tell you not to worry about me, but it’s nice to know that someone cares.” Aria knew she was playing with fire. She couldn’t resist. She leaned close, her fingers skimming up his arm to his neck. She slipped her fingers up into his hair as his arms circled her waist. He pulled her to him and bestowed a soft kiss upon her lips. The kiss deepened, his tongue slipping through her parted lips, tasting her sweetness. 

“Balimund!” An excited girlish voice interrupted the moment, “Balimund! Come with me! You have to see this!” 

He pulled away from Aria with a groan, turning to see Kirsli running toward him with her coppery red hair streaming behind her like a banner. The teenager skidded to a stop, sending dirt and muck flying at their feet. “What is it, Kirsli?” he asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. She had the worst timing. 

“I found something I need your help with. Please come with me.” Kirsli turned dual colored eyes upon him, bestowing a pleading look. “It won’t take long.” 

Aria chuckled softly, “Whirlwind.” Then she vaulted into her saddle. “See ya later.” Aria nickered to the horse and set off at a canter, heading up the lake trail. 

Balimund watched her until she was out of sight. Then he turned his attention to Kirsli who was still bouncing around. “What do you want me to see, Kirsli?”

She grabbed hold of his arm, pulling him along with her. She bypassed the stables and the camp of the Khajiit traders, heading for the shoreline of Lake Honrich. She led him passed Merryfair Farm to a small inlet off the lake. “There,” she pointed to a fawn in a bear trap. “I tried to get it open on my own, but I’m not strong enough.” 

Balimund knelt down beside her and pressed the sides of the trap down flat, freeing the fawn. It slowly limped a few feet away. “The trap did some damage to its leg. It may not make it out here in the wild.”

A sad expression crossed her face, “Wolves?” 

He nodded, looking around the area. “At least it’s free. You shouldn’t come out here all by yourself, Kirsli. Faldar’s Tooth is not far up the trail. I’d rather not see you fall prey to bandits. Plus there are wild animals out here and you have no weapons. I should at least make sure you carry a dagger on you at all times.”

She beamed a smile at him, her eyes twinkling. She hugged him tightly, “Thank you.” 

“If we’re done here, I need to get back to work. Those orders aren’t going to fill themselves.” Balimund took hold of her arm, leading her up the trail. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” 

He grinned, “I wouldn’t say no to a bite to eat. Think you can look around the pantry and put something together?”

“Of course I can. I would have done that one I got back to the house,” she giggled. “I’m hungry, too, even though I had a sweetroll.” 

He made a pouty face at her, “Where’s my sweetroll?” 

She shrugged, “Bersi gave it to me. It was delicious, but Tythis stole the last piece. I’ll stop in at the Bee and Barb and see what Keerava has for dessert.” 

“Mmm, dessert sounds good. She makes an excellent apple pie,” Balimund smacked his lips just thinking about it. “There’s venison that needs to be used up. You could make venison chops with some baked potatoes and grilled leeks. Check the cupboard also. See how much ale is left then go to the Meadery and talk to Ungrien at the front desk. Tell him to charge a case to my tab.” 

She flashed a cross look at him, but kept quiet. 

“What was that for?” 

“I almost ran Maven over earlier. She said in not so many words that the street urchins shouldn’t be seen and to get out of her way.” Kirsli retorted, “Bitch!”

Balimund laughed then muddled her hair. “Ignore her. Actually don’t get to the Meadery for the ale. Keerava should have something. Let’s stop in there.” They walked through the city gates together and he guided her to the Bee and Barb. Once inside he headed straight toward Keerava’s counter. 

“Afternoon, Keerava,” he spoke up. 

“Balimund, what can I get you today?” The Argonian innkeeper asked him. She turned her eyes to Kirsli, “Hands to yourself, girl. Don’t get any ideas.”

“Calm down, Keerava. She’s with me. I’ll have those two apple pies and a case of mead or ale, doesn’t matter what kind it is as long as it isn’t Black Briar,” he replied, leaning in and lowering his voice. 

Keerava started to gather up his order, “I heard that you know the woman who knocked Brynjolf out.”

Balimund gave her a questioning look, “I met her earlier today. She stopped by the forge for a repair. Why?”

“No reason. It’s just about time someone stood up to him. Pity she didn’t kill him. Is it true that she shouted at him?” Keerava placed a crate with the bottles of alcohol on the counter then turned to remove the pies from the glass display case. She wrapped and handed them over to Kirsli. 

“I know you have had to have heard this story a dozen times already so I’m not going to stand here and gossip about it. Now what do I owe you?” He pulled a coin pouch from his pocket. 

“The mead I’ll put on your tab. The pies will be 6 septims.” 

He doled out the coins and ushered Kirsli out of the inn. “What was she talking about? Who did what to Brynjolf?” 

Kirsli bounded over to Brynjolf’s stall. The Nord thief wasn’t there. She cast an inquisitive look at Balimund and followed him into the Scorched Hammer. “What happened to Brynjolf?”

“Aria, the woman who bought armor from me earlier, shouted at him. She’s the Dragonborn.” Balimund replied as he unloaded the bottles in the crate into the cupboard.

“I thought she was a Companion.” Kirsli scratched her head as she gathered up everything she would need to fix the meal Balimund had suggested. 

“She is. Brynjolf was bothering her like he did you, so she taught him a lesson.” Balimund said. “Maybe he’ll think twice next time. I’m headed back to work. Let me know when the food is ready.”

Kirsli nodded. 

~*~*~

Over an hour and a half later, Kirsli finished setting the table and filling their plates with food. The smell of roasted venison, potatoes and vegetables lingered on the air, with hints of butter, spice and cream. She poked her head out the door and hollered, “It’s on the table!”

Then she headed down into the basement to find Asbjorn. She knew he was down there because she could hear hammering, “Asbjorn!”

“Over here, Kirs,” he called back from behind a curtain. She ducked behind it and gasped at the sight of the bed frame he was working on.

“Is that mine?”

“Yes it is. I’ll have it done soon so you’ll have a real bed to sleep in,” he smiled. “What say you to that?”

She squealed and jumped up and down excitedly. Then she gave him a big hug. “Thank you, Asbjorn. I wondered with all the orders Balimund has when he’d find time make it.”

“Your boots are ready, too,” he added. 

“Thank you,” she beamed as she grabbed them off his workbench. “They’re beautiful. I love ‘em.”

“You’re welcome, Kirsli. Did you need something? I’d like to get this finished.” 

“Yeah, food’s on the table if you’re hungry,” she scrambled back up the stairs, clutching the boots in hand. 

She had just placed the finishing touches on the table, a small vase full of the wildflowers she’d picked earlier that day when Balimund entered the house. He bestowed a warm smile upon her. “Smells good.” Then he headed for the washbasin.

This was the home she had always dreamed about. This was what she wanted. Now if she could only have what she had imagined…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kirsli's personality is really beginning to blossom. She's not as sweet and innocent as pretends to be. 
> 
> And just to be clear on something, the Thieves Guild storyline is probably my favorite one in the game. I absolutely LOVE Brynjolf. So Aria shouting at him was out of the norm for me. I know the Dragonborn can be the head of the Thieves Guild and Harbinger at the same time but for this story it just really doesn't work. Hence, poor Bryn gets knocked out. And how in-game he's pretty much invulnerable and the shout wouldn't harm him, well that didn't really work for this fic either... so I had to change that. 
> 
> Will he learn his lesson? We'll see.


	5. Of Spiders and Fire Salts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirsli goes on the hunt for an alchemical component in order to help Balimund.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A-ha finally an update! A bit of writer's block hit me. I wasn't sure what to do with this story. I'm still not sure where this is going. So this is a bit of a filler chapter. 
> 
> Still un-beta-ed. Tried to catch mistakes, but probably missed some.

Kirsli settled into the lives of Balimund and Asbjorn with ease. The blacksmith was pleased with her efforts that turned the bachelor pad into a home. Her delicate touch could be found everywhere from the flowers on the table every meal to the snowberry wreath that now adorned the shop’s door. Each of the rooms in the small house, including the bedrooms, gleamed from her hard work. There was not a spot of dust or dirt to be found anywhere, not even in the corners or under the beds. 

Her skill at cooking had grown as well. She had convinced Bersi’s wife, Drifa to teach her how to bake pies and other desserts. Balimund couldn’t remember a time when he ate so well. Truly it was a good thing his work was so physically demanding because if it wasn’t he was sure his waistline would have expanded greatly.

Yet as her confidence grew so did his worry. It had been weeks and Aria had yet to return with the fire salts. He noticed more and more the difference in his forge. He would have to find the needed fire salts soon or his livelihood would be in jeopardy. It was his burden to worry about. He didn’t want Kirsli to fear she’d end up back out on the streets again. 

Asbjorn knew the condition of the forge rested heavy on his adoptive father’s mind. He often noticed the brows furrowed as he worked harder to make the weapons for the numerous orders he had meet his normal standards. There were stretches of days when the younger apprentice worked side by side with Balimund to churn out the endless requests for more high-quality steel swords and shields. The younger man’s skill wasn’t anywhere near at the level of his mentor, but it was by no means shoddy. He could produce a quality sword as well.

When Asbjorn had tried to broach the subject of the forge and its need for the fire salts, Balimund shot him a look that quickly silenced him. Little did he know that Kirsli had overheard the exchange. Her mind worked furiously. This would be her chance to impress him once more if she could get the fire salts when that woman had not. Once she placed lunch on the table, she let Balimund know it was ready then headed down to Elgrim’s. Hopefully Hafjorg had a few pinches of fire salts she could trade for and if not, perhaps she would know where Kirsli could get them.

Kirsli bounded into the alchemy shop, full of vest, “Hello, Hafjorg! How are you today?” The beaming smile on Kirsli’s face was so contagious that Hafjorg couldn’t help but return it.

“I am doing just fine, Kirsli. It was kind of you to ask,” the older woman replied. “What can I do for you this day?”

“I’m looking for an ingredient and I was hoping you had it or knew where I could get it.”

“And what ingredient do you need, dear? What potion are you hoping to brew?”

“It’s not for a potion. I need fire salts. Tell me you have some I can trade for.” Kirsli flashed puppy dog eyes at the older woman. 

Hafjorg pursed her lips, “Did Balimund send you down here? I already told him we didn’t have any.”

Kirsli’s face fell into a look of dejection, “No, he didn’t send me. He doesn’t even know I’m here. I just overheard him and Asbjorn. He’s been so good to me. I thought I could help him.”

“I understand that you want to help him, dear girl, but fire salts come from Flame Atronachs. The only people who usually summon them are mages.” Hafjorg replied. “Even if we did have some fire salts in stock, I wouldn’t be able to trade them for just anything. They are rare and quite expensive, about 50 septims per pinch. There’s nothing in the surrounding area you could gather worth that.”

Kirsli sighed, “Do you think the court wizard would have any or does she dabble in alchemy?”

“Wylandriah might be able to get you some, but that poor dear is so absentminded that she may not remember who she procured them for. Besides, do you really think Balimund would appreciate you going to the keep to inquire about something his forge needs?” Hafjorg asked her with a knowing look on her wrinkled face. “I won’t say anything about you coming to me about this, Kirsli, but it’s possible other people might gossip.”

“Oh I didn’t think of it that way. Thank you, Hafjorg.” Kirsli left the alchemy shop and headed back up to the marketplace. She idly browsed Brand Shei’s goods, chatting with the dark elf while she did so.

She glanced around the marketplace, noting Brynjolf hadn’t returned to his stall since the altercation with the Dragonborn, Aria. She had heard through Madesi the shout that knocked him into the wall had left him with a cracked skull and he was convalescing at Black Briar Manor still. Served him right, she thought.

She wandered around Riften for a while, mulling over in her head how she could get the some fire salts without divulging that Balimund’s forge needed them. She wanted to ask Wylandriah, but needed a good reason. Soon she found herself near the keep. She headed up the steps and peered across the grounds. Harrald and a few of the guard’s were involved in weapons training. She moved closer to watch them swing their swords at the practice dummies. They all seemed so skilled. She touched the elven dagger at her hip that Balimund had gifted her. He had said it was for protection, but if she didn’t know how to use it, what good would it be? It had given her an idea. One she hadn’t been able to act upon. She had thought to ask Mjoll to train her how to fight with weapons, but the warrior woman had been busy as of late. Perhaps the next time she saw her.

A voice startled her out of her thoughts. She jumped, looking around for the source. 

“Don’t just stand there like an imbecile, girl. Answer me when I speak to you,” Harrald demanded. 

“Sorry, Harrald,” Kirsli averted her eyes, looking down at her boots. “I was lost in thoughts. What did you say?”

The redheaded man scoffed, “I asked if Balimund was done with my sword yet?”

Kirsli ventured a glance up at him, “I don’t know. I could find out.”

“Please do, and be quick about it, girl. I haven’t got all day.”

Kirsli sped off, her mind racing. This might be the opportunity she needed. She dashed across the market to the forge where Balimund hammered a red hot length of steel. As she got close, she noticed the sweat beading his forehead and how his arm muscles strained beneath his shirt. “Sorry to interrupt you, but I was wandering about and Harrald demanded I fetch his sword for him.”

Balimund shook his head, and dipped the steel he was working on into the trough of cool water to quench. “Of course that lazy good for nothing asked you. I guess it’s too difficult for him to walk down here when I’m a stone’s throw from the keep. Hang on, Kirs. I’ll get it.”

“Have you eaten yet?” Kirsli asked, knowing if she didn’t keep after him he’d let his lunch go cold.

He grabbed the sword from a nearby rack it was resting on, and handed it to her. “If Harrald would stop slaying walls his blade would stay in better shape. And yes, lunch was delicious.”

She beamed a smile at him then leaned in close, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Good, you have a bad habit of working through meals and then you’re grumpy and very hungry later.”

Before he could reply she skipped away, blade in hand.

Balimund watched her as she made her way to the keep. Cheeky lass. She was a ray of sunshine that had brightened his life. He had never been so certain of his decision to take her in. She would make someone a fine wife and he would hate to see her go. He pushed that thought from his mind. He hoped that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. She was young still and it fell to him to protect her from those who would hurt her.

*~*~*

Kirsli dashed into the keep’s yard, but Harrald wasn’t there. Making her way up the stairs, she opened the heavy doors of Mistveil Keep and entered the Throne Room. Jarl Laila and her court sat at the large trestle tables that were the main focus of the great hall. Kirsli scanned the room for Harrald and spotted him seated near his mother. Not wishing to interrupt their meal, she wandered into an adjacent room.

“Oh, did we have an appointment? Or was it a delivery?” The woman behind the counter spoke up as Kirsli approached.

“Neither,” Kirsli said. “I was told you might sell spellbooks and sometimes alchemy supplies.”

Wylandriah eyed her thoughtfully, “I have some merchandise. Are you looking for anything in particular? Though, you don’t seem like a mage.”

“Well I am interested in the arcane arts. I like fire. I can cast a few simple fire spells. I’ve considered going to the College of Winterhold once I get older. But for right now, there is something I need. I have an interest in alchemy. I go outside city walls to collect alchemy ingredients, but sometimes it gets dangerous. I have a weapon, but it’s just a dagger. So I’ve heard of things called atronachs I could summon that could maybe protect me while I’m out. Oh, why are you looking at me that way? Did I hear wrong? I must sound like a silly little girl.”

Wylandriah’s face lit up, “No, not silly at all. It’s just refreshing to see someone young so interested in magic. I could help you learn, if you would like. Perhaps lessons so you would have a modicum of skill before you leave for the college. It’ll be wonderful. And to be so interested in conjuration. That is fascinating.” The wizard turned to her shelf of books. “Oh, what were you asking about?”

Kirsli’s mind worked quickly. Just by listening to Wylandriah she hoped she continued to sound knowledgeable. One thing she knew for sure, though. Hafjorg had been right. The court wizard was absentminded and she hoped to use that to her advantage, “A spellbook that allow me to summon an atronach. A flame atronach. I like fire.”

The wizard rummaged around her shelf, “A-ha, here it is.” She set the spell tome on the counter in front of Kirsli.

“I have a question before I purchase it, though. Does it leave behind fire salts after it is destroyed? Or winks out of existence? Or how does that work?” Kirsli caught her lower lip between her teeth and worried it for a moment. She was in unfamiliar territory and had to tread lightly.

“Oh no, your conjured atronachs won’t leave behind alchemical salts when they disappear from existence.” Wylandriah said. “Now if you come across one that has been summoned by someone else and it is destroyed, then it will leave behind the salts. I wouldn’t recommend hunting any wizards who keep atronachs as guardians. It’s usually witches and hags and you don’t want to tangle with them. If you need fire salts for some reason, I have three pinches from my personal stock that I can sell you.”

“You do?” Kirsli beamed a smile at her. “Would you be willing to make a deal for them? I have to deliver this sword to Harrald. He asked me to bring it to him. But I’ll be right back.”

Wylandriah winked, “Make sure he gives you a reward.”

Kirsli left the wizard’s room and noticed the Jarl had returned to her throne. Her steward sat beside her. Unmid, Laila’s housecarl, stood with his back pressed against the wall. Laila’s son, Saerlund, sat at the back of the throne room on a bench with his nose in a book. And Harrald stood opposite of Wylandriah’s room, snidely speaking to a guard. 

Kirsli approached him, and waited until he finished giving orders. She cleared her throat as he started to walk away once he was finished. 

He turned, leveling an irritated glare upon her. “Yes, yes, I don’t have all day.”

Kirsli held out the sword, scabbard and all, to him, “Your blade, my lord.”

He scoffed at her. “You surely took your sweet time bringing it back to me. Hand it over.”

Her brow furrowed and she had to bite her tongue, “When I came in you were in the midst of having lunch. I didn’t want to disturb you so I waited until you were finished.”

“At least you have some sense,” Harrald tersely remarked. He handed her two small pouches, “Here. Take this to Balimund for the repair work and this is for you for the legwork. Now get out of my way.”

Kirsli made a face at him once his back was turned. Stupid egotist! One of these days she was hoping someone took him down a notch. She shook her head and returned to the Wylandriah’s room, taking the time to peak into the pouch to see what it contained. It surprised to find three good quality gems. He had rewarded her with an amethyst, a garnet and an emerald. She laid them on the counter. “Excuse me, Wylandriah,” she called out to the mage who had moved to the alchemy table. 

“Oh hello there,” the woman said in a cheerful voice. “I’ll be right with you.”

Kirsli waited for a few minutes while Wylandriah crushed something up with a mortar and pestle. 

She added the contents of the alembic then returned to the counter to see to what Kirsli needed. “How can I help you today?”

Kirsli cocked an eyebrow at the mage, “I was just in here. We were talking about fire salts and flame atronachs. You said you have three pinches you would sell me.”

“Oh, are you an alchemist?” The wizard beamed. “It’s so nice to meet a fellow purveyor of the craft.”

“I dabble a bit. Can we make a deal for the salts please?” Kirsli pressed. The woman’s short memory was starting to get annoying, but hopefully it would keep tongues from wagging. 

“Oh yes, yes, we sure can. Let me get you the salts.” Wylandriah sashayed off into a smaller room, humming a tune softly. When she returned she placed three bowls filled with what looked like black grains of sand. “Here are the void salts. What do you have to trade?”

“No, not void salts. I need fire salts.” Kirsli corrected her.

“Oh, fire salts. Why didn’t you say so before?” Wylandriah took the bowls back to her alchemical cupboard and brought forth three bowls of glowing ice. “Here’s your frost salts. That’ll be 300 septims.”

“Fire salts for the third time, Wylandriah. Fire salts, not void salts, not frost salts. Fire salts,” Kirsli repeated with a heavy sigh. She was starting to lose her patience. This was almost not even worth it anymore for all the trouble. 

“Oh right, fire salts. Be right back,” the wizard wandered off, still humming a tune under her breath. She rummaged around for a while. Kirsli winced as she heard something crash and soon Wylandriah shrieked. Kirsli dashed in to help the wizard. She found her cowering at the sight of a palm-sized spider, which was clicking its mandibles and waving its front two legs menacingly. Kirsli pulled her dagger from her hip and stabbed clear through the hairy eight legged insect. Once it was dead, she tossed it into a chamber pot. 

“It’s dead. Are you alright?” Kirsli asked as she escorted the shaking woman from the small room. 

“I hate spiders. That one was big. How did it get into my supply cupboard? Oh, I hope there aren’t any more.” She wrung her hands nervously as she sat down on a chair. “I need a drink.”

“You’re a wizard. Why didn’t you explode it with a spell?” Kirsli asked as she grabbed a bottle of mead from a shelf and handed it to the shaking woman. 

“I froze up. Spiders scare me. I can’t go back in that room. Not for a while,” Wylandriah popped the cork on the mead and tipped it to her lips. She took a long draw of the bottle, consuming half of it in one swallow.

“Then I’ll go look for the fire salts, if that’s okay with you.” Kirsli suggested as she headed for Wylandriah’s cupboard of alchemical supplies. It didn’t take her long to locate the fire salts. They were on the very top shelf. The wizard had four pinches instead of three. Kirsli brought them out and placed them on the counter. “I found them. How much do I owe you?”

“Just take them. You saved my life. I’m going to tell Jarl Laila what a lifesaver you are.” Wylandriah said, her words slightly slurred from drinking the whole bottle of mead way too quickly.

“You don’t have to do that.” Kirsli protested as she placed the gems Harrald had given her back in the pouch. She tucked it in her pocket.

“You’re a hero. She needs to know.” Wylandriah staggered out of her room with Kirsli on her heels, still protesting. “Jarl Laila, this girl is a hero. She saved me… my life.”

Kirsli shook her head furiously as the din of the room came to an eerie quiet. “No, it was just a spider.”

“Yes, she killed the spider. It was humongous. Ready to spit poison at me and she stabbed it. It died and she saved me. She’s a hero. I wanted to recognize her courage.”

Kirsli dropped her head in her hands. She was going to end up in so much trouble. If Balimund found out she had come here to get fire salts, he might be angry with her. He might toss her back out into the streets. “No, I’m not a hero. It wasn’t very big. Just the size of my hand, really. No need to make a big deal. I need to get back to the Scorched Hammer soon.”

She could feel the eyes of the court upon her. She groaned as Wylandriah continued on, “She’s so modest and such a sweet girl. Has such a thirst for knowledge.”

Jarl Laila’s full scrutiny was upon her now, “You are Balimund’s ward, are you not?”

Kirsli’s throat went dry, felt as scratchy as sandpaper. She nodded, keeping her eyes averted, as if to not draw any more attention to herself. But she wasn’t prepared for the full scrutiny of the court.

“Speak up, child.” The Jarl said, “Tell us about this spider.”

Kirsli licked her lips. She slowly raised her head, her eyes finally meeting those of the jarls. Her voice was soft as she spoke, “I am Balimund’s ward. He took me in after Grelod threw me out of Honorhall. I work for him. And truthfully, the spider wasn’t that big, your grace. It’s nothing to make a fuss over.”

“My court wizard says you saved her so it must be true. She does have a fear of spiders. If Wylandriah wishes us to honor you, then it will be so. I proclaim you a hero of Riften,” Jarl Laila announced. By this point, Kirsli was pretty sure Jarl Laila was humoring her court wizard. She breathed a sigh of relief, hoping it wouldn’t go any further than this. 

“Thank you, Jarl Laila,” Kirsli curtseyed and glanced around the hall. Most everyone had gone back to their business and for that she was happy. Even Wylandriah was sitting on a bench, drinking another bottle of mead. Kirsli took this as her chance to escape. She dashed back into Wylandriah’s room, gathered up the fire salts and left behind the emerald as payment. Stowing the goods in a pouch she carried for alchemical supplies, she left the keep behind and prayed what had happened never reached Balimund’s ears.

She worried, though. Guardsman tended to give him information about what was happening around town, sometimes even things that happened in the keep. Hopefully this wasn’t one of them. 


	6. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giving the fire salts to Balimund doesn't turn out like Kirsli had hoped it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! Woohoo! 
> 
> I have to thank a very good friend for the help and fixing my foibles. You know who you are. Love ya lots! 
> 
> I think I finally know where this story is going and how I'm getting it there so hopefully updates will remain consistent. My muse is a bitch sometimes, though.
> 
> This is [Kirsli](http://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/images/579944/?) and [Aria](http://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/images/580023/?).

Kirsli headed back towards the Scorched Hammer, humming a happy tune as she skipped along. As she crossed through the market, she stopped at Madesi’s stall, “Good day, Madesi. I have a couple gems I’d like you to appraise for me.”

The Argonian cocked his head at her, “Let me see what you have.”

She pulled the amethyst and the garnet from the pouch and set them atop his display case. He picked each up one by one and examined them with his jeweler’s loupe. “They are of good quality, no flaws. Good size. How did you come by these?”

She frowned at them, “I didn’t steal them if that’s what you’re alluding to. Harrald gave them to me for delivering his sword to him that Balimund repaired.”

Madesi chuckled, “No need to get your feathers ruffled, landstrider. I wasn’t suggesting that you would steal. You have a habit of finding things. I profited from that mammoth’s tusk you found. Now if I could only find someone to find me a chuck of gold ore and two flawless sapphires.”

“I can’t help you there, friend. So what are those worth? He also gave me an emerald,” she said, hoping he’d be willing to buy them from her.

Madesi’s interested peaked, “An emerald, you say? I’d be interested in seeing that.”

Kirsli pursed her lips, “Well, let me get it for you.” She dashed away, back to the keep and hoped the gem in question was still on Wylandriah’s counter. As she entered the throne room, she noticed the wizard was sitting where she was before. That made it easier. Kirsli quickly entered the adjacent room and made her way over to the counter. She breathed a sigh of relief as she noticed the gem was still there. She grabbed it up, tucked it into the pouch and headed back out of the room, but she didn’t make it far before she was stopped by a guardsman. 

“What do you think you are doing?” he asked gruffly.

Kirsli sighed, “I was in here a little while ago, talking to Wylandriah. I killed a spider for her. In all the confusion I left behind something Harrald had rewarded me with so I came back to get it. Ask him if you don’t believe me.”

“And what might that be?”

“Three gems,” she said as she opened the pouch to reveal the emerald. “See?”

“There’s only one in there,” he tapped his foot impatiently.

“That’s because Madesi has the other two. I asked him to appraise them for me,” she smiled.

“Alright,” he said. “Just stay out of trouble, girl.”

She nodded and took her leave of the keep, making her way back to Madesi’s stall. She laid the emerald before him and watched as he examined it. 

“This is a very high quality gem. I am surprised that the Jarl’s son gave it away. The fool must not have known what he had. I would very much like to purchase the emerald from you and the amethyst as well. I can offer you 70 septims for the amethyst and 400 for the emerald.” 

“Wow. I’ve never seen that many septims in my whole life. It’s a deal,” Kirsli bounced up and down, her mind racing with thoughts of what all she could buy with that much coin.

Madesi opened his strongbox and counted out the coins to her. “You probably shouldn’t carry that around with you. You’ll be a target for pickpockets and thieves. Best take it home and have Balimund lock it in his safe until you need it, landstrider.”

She beamed a smile at him, “I will. Thank you, Madesi.” She raced towards Balimund’s forge, noticing he wasn’t outside. She headed into the house and found him sitting in front of the fire, drinking from a bottle of mead. 

“Balimund,” she squealed happily, a wide smile on her face. “Guess what?”

Her smile proved infectious and he returned it, “What has you so happy?”

She perched herself on his lap, her smile beaming. She curled one arm around his broad shoulders and allowed her fingers to idly comb through his hair. “First Harrald sent this with me to give to you.” She dropped the coin pouch on the table next to his chair. “That’s payment for the repair.”

“I figured he’d conveniently forget and I’d have to remind him like the last time. You still haven’t told me what has you all smiles yet,” he replied as he set his drink aside and readjusted her weight. 

She flashed a teasing glance at him. “I’m getting to that. Harrald also handed me a pouch of nice gems as well, for the legwork he said. I had Madesi appraise them. He bought a couple from me, an emerald and an amethyst. I don’t want to risk it getting stolen so I thought you could lock it up for me until I need it,” she chimed, wiggling about on his lap.

“I can do that. Are you going to buy yourself something pretty with your reward?”

“I might spend a little, but I think saving it would be wiser. There’s nothing I really need at the moment. It’s ironic. When I had very little or no coin at all, I wanted everything I saw,” she shrugged as she flipped the long length of her red hair over her shoulder. 

The scent of lavender tickled his nose. Usually lavender was known for its comforting properties, but on her sun-kissed skin, it caused the exact opposite. Balimund grunted low in his throat and readjusted her again. Discomfort followed by revulsion overwhelmed him. He was old enough to be her father, but at this moment she had his blood pumping and it was all flowing south. His thoughts were anything but fatherly. He wasn’t sure what was causing him to react like he was a wet behind the ears lad, but he sure as Oblivion needed to put a stop to it. Maybe he’d just been working too hard lately. Maybe he’d been alone for far too long. He gritted his teeth, “That’s great, Kirsli. Is that all you needed to tell me? I have to get back to work.”

A hurt look crossed her face, settling in her dual colored eyes. He had never dismissed her so quickly or had been so snappish with her either. She thrust her lower lip out in a very provocative pout. A low groan slipped from Balimund’s throat. “No, there was something else.”

He nudged her off his lap, relieved the heavy apron he wore disguised the erection tenting his smallclothes. He cleared his throat, willing his cock to behave. He wasn’t a rawboned boy who’d just grown his first chin whiskers. He ventured a glance back up to Kirsli, still with a pout on her pretty face. She stood before the fireplace with her arms folded across her ample chest. _Fuck!_ He cursed inwardly. _When had he noticed that?_ He needed to go back to his forge. Maybe hammering something would solve his problem. 

“Kirsli?” He ventured once he felt he could speak again. He watched as she dug into the pouch she carried at her waist that usually held the alchemy supplies she gathered. She handed him a small pot and dashed out of the house without saying a word. He glanced from the clay pot he now held in his hand to the door. Her odd behavior certainly perplexed him, but it all made sense to him as he removed the covering from it.

It contained fire salts. Fire salts that his forge desperately needed. With a groan, he set the pot on the table beside the coin pouch and rubbed his face. Cursing himself for a fool, he let out a ragged sigh, “Kirsli.” 

No wonder she was so happy, but how she had managed to get such rare ingredients when he hadn’t been able to, he wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was the fact that he had been an ass and would have to apologize to her. Also he had to get the whole story from her. That meant he had to find her. 

~*~

Kirsli cursed herself a fool as she ran by the market, passed the Bee and Barb and out the main city gates. Stupid! She berated herself. She should have known not to be so overt, but she couldn’t help it. Every time she looked at him, she saw what she had always wanted. She skirted by the stables and headed out the lake trail to Merryfair Farm. At the farm, she headed to the small inlet where she had found the fawn stuck in a trap and hiked up the hill to the very top. She sat down on a large rock, facing the fields that stretched out between the city and Fort Greenwall. 

She should have known better. He had always treated her like a child, like an adoptive daughter. Why would he see her in any other way? She could only imagine what he thought of her now. She couldn’t go back and change what had happened, but she chastised herself not to do it again. Or maybe not make it so obvious. Note to self, she thought, no wiggling around on Balimund’s lap like a bitch in heat. Oh but while it lasted it felt amazing. She had felt how hard he grew and reveled in how her body responded. Heat pooled in her nethers. Her nipples hardened to taut peaks and a tingling wetness seeped into her smallclothes. No one had made her feel that way before.

The attraction she felt went so much farther than physical. Yes, he was handsome, but he was also a kind man. Generous and big hearted. He could be gruff when he had to be, but under it all he was gentle. He cared. He was well-spoken and enjoyed his work. She liked his hands and the width of his shoulders. The little furrow between his brows when he was thinking on something intently was usually cause to make her sigh. Despite the fact he treated her like a child, he treated her like a person and not just an object. He listened to her when she spoke and hadn’t ever dismissed her before today, but she knew that was her doing. Living in his household had done wonders for her self-esteem. It made her feel she could accomplish anything if she put her mind to it.

She slid from the rock and moved onto the soft grass. She made herself comfortable, lying on her belly with her feet in the air. She glanced about, taking in the beauty of this warm Hearthfire day. She knew there wouldn’t be many more like this as Frostfall would bring cooler temperatures and stormy weather. While The Rift had milder weather than the rest of Skyrim, it could still get cold. She knew that better than anyone. 

Butterflies flitted from flower to flower. Their fragrant blossoms still released their inviting scents upon the breeze. In the distant valley she could make the shape of a few wolves chasing a rather large elk. 

Being out here soothed her hurt pride and helped her think. The world had a way of putting things in perspective. And hers at the moment was focused on one man.

As she rested her chin on her forearms Kirsli vowed she would find a way to make Balimund see she wasn’t a child. 

She was a woman.

~*~

Balimund gathered his wits about him and climbed down the stairs to the basement. He sought Asbjorn out, shaking his head at his foolhardiness. He knew his apprentice was busy. He had given him quite a bit to do, but this was more important. “Do me a favor,” he spoke up as he rubbed the back of his neck. That simple motion had him stifling a groan though. He could still feel her touch. 

Asbjorn looked up, cocking a brow as if to ask, ‘what now?’

“Stop what you’re doing. Go outside to the forge. I left a piece in the fire. There’s something I need to take care of,” he begrudgingly admitted. His face was a hard mask, unreadable and guarded, as was the set of his shoulders.

“What’s so damn important?”

“Kirsli.”

“What about her? Is something wrong?” Asbjorn stood up and headed for the ladder. “Is she hurt?”

The young apprentice was very protective of Kirsli. They had become fast friends. They spent a great deal of time together when they each weren’t busy and he enjoyed her company. She was sweet, but had a wicked sense of humor once she had come out of her shell. She was also a very clever and intelligent female, surely the match of any man.

“No, I can’t even begin to explain it, but I fucked up and she took off.” The admission hurt more than he thought it would. 

Asbjorn cocked an eyebrow, his hands resting on his hips as his brain processed what the older man had just said. “How about I go talk to her?”

“No, son, I have to do this. Just see to the forge for me.” Balimund brushed past Asbjorn, climbed the steps and headed out the front door. He had no idea where she would have run off to. He scanned the market and didn’t see her. He knew others would have, though. His first stop was Madesi’s. The Argonian jeweler told him he hadn’t seen her since she sold him the gems. With a thank you, Balimund glanced around. From his front door it was easier to go around the market and head down the boardwalk toward the gates. The thought that she could have gone down to the docks entered his mind as well. He hoped not. Nothing good would come of that. 

Continuing on, he hastened down the boardwalk, spying Marise. If Kirsli had come this way, the Dunmer would certainly have seen her.

Stopping at her stall, he inquired, “Has Kirsli run by here in the last quarter hour?”

“Yes, she did. I believe I saw her head to the gates,” the food vendor replied. “I hope you find her. Though I had hoped you were stopping by to make a purchase. I have some fine cuts of pheasant and venison.”

Balimund nodded at her, “Maybe I will once I find Kirsli.” He took his leave and headed in the direction she had suggested Kirsli had gone. Now that he thought about it, her going outside the city made sense. It was where she gathered most of her alchemy supplies. Plus the docks didn’t hold very many pleasant memories for her. 

Though where she went once she was outside the city walls was another question. She could be anywhere in the surrounding area by now. It made him worry for her. The wilderness surrounding Riften wasn’t the friendliest of places. The wildlife was the least of the things that could harm her. He knew she always carried the dagger he gave her, but she wasn’t exactly trained in how to use it. 

He cursed himself a fool as he left the city behind. There were a couple guards lazing about near the gates. He noticed Sigaar at his wagon and Shadr tending to one of the horses. He hoped one of them had seen which way she had went. 

When asked, the guards shrugged and said they saw nothing. Balimund cursed under his breath. Hopefully nothing attacked the front gate. These two good for nothings would be the first to die. 

Shadr hadn’t seen her either, but hoped she stopped by soon for he had something he wanted to asked her. Balimund gruffly muttered he would pass on the message. Sigaar, the wagon master, had seen her, though it took a bit of persuading for the man to offer up the information. He pocketed the coins, “Yeah, I saw her just a little while ago. Pretty little thing, she is. Ran by here with all that long red hair whipping in the breeze. That sweet round ass jigglin’ in those tight trousers she was wearin’ and her titties… oooo, what I wouldn’t give to watch them titties bounce as she rides my dick.”

Fury crossed Balimund’s face as he glared at the man. He clenched his teeth as his hands balled into fists and fought the urge not to beat this bastard to a bloody pulp. “Don’t you dare speak of her like that!?!”

Sigaar leered, “Ah I get it. You don’t want any other man to fuck what you’re fuckin’. I don’t blame you. I’d never let a hot piece of ass like her out of my sight.”

Balimund had heard enough from this prick. He grabbed the man by his collar and slammed him back against the wagon hard. Rage dilated his pupils and flushed his skin red. He bared his teeth, growling low in his throat. “The only fucking words I want to hear out of your mouth is which direction she went. Tell me and I don’t beat the shit out of you.”

Sigaar knew he’d fucked up, “Uh…” he swallowed nervously. He tried to speak again, but only an unmanly squeak emerged. Then the shaking began and he feared he’d piss his pants as the angry blacksmith lifted him and slammed him back into the wagon once more. 

“Which way did she go?” Balimund lowered his voice a bit.

“She…. uh… ran…. through those trees… toward the lake trail,” he whimpered. His worst fears were realized as urine ran down his leg to puddle in the dirt. “That’s… all I …know, I swear.”

Hofgrir walked up beside them. “What’s going on here?”

Balimund let go of the wagon master and backed away. “I stopped to ask which way Kirsli went when she ran through here and this asshole had to run his mouth off about her. That was after he wouldn’t tell me which way she went without a bribe. This fucking city makes me sick sometimes.”

The stable master glanced from Balimund to Sigaar. The blacksmith was usually fairly easy going so he knew Sigaar must have said something really bad about Kirsli to make Balimund this angry. And he had a good idea of what it was. “Sigaar, you ignorant fuck, haven’t I told you not to talk about fucking that girl, especially not in front of him.”

Balimund shook his head, “Wait a damn minute, this isn’t the first time.”

Sigaar tried to shuffle away. If he could just make it to the head of the wagon, then he could hoist himself up into the driver’s seat and make his way out of here. Head somewhere else for while and let tempers cool down. 

It wasn’t to be though. Balimund reached out, grabbing hold of his tunic, and thus stopped him from getting away. He dragged him back, putting him against the wall of wagon just as forcefully as before. “Get this through your head. You will not look at her. You will not think about fucking her. She doesn’t even fucking exist to a piece of shit like you. She is a young girl, not a sex toy for a prick like you. Do you understand?” Then Balimund forcefully shoved him away, causing him to fall to the ground. 

Hofgrir raised a brow, eyeing Balimund speculatively. If one believed the gossip around town, Kirsli was warming the blacksmith’s bed. Of course, he wasn’t the only man in town who had bedded her. Maul claimed her first. Maven’s bodyguard had bragged about popping the girl’s cherry. There was also Tythis Ulen. The Dunmer had claimed she was so tight he could barely squeeze his dick into her. He rubbed his chin then with a smirk said, “A young girl, huh? But not too young for you, right?”

Balimund slowly turned his gaze to Hofgrir. He’d heard the gossip, but ignored it. He knew the truth. If the gossipers wanted to flap their lips, so be it. “Bet you heard that from Haelga, huh? You know better than anyone that kind of gossip belongs in the manure pile, Horse Crusher.” Then he clenched his hand into a tight fist and slammed it as hard as he could into Hofgrir’s smirking face. He heard the crunching of bones as blood gushed from his nose. 

Hofgrir bellowed from the pain, “You broke my fucking nose, you bastard!” He clutched his nose as Balimund walked away, heading toward the lake trail. 

His blood boiled and it felt so good to punch Hofgrir in his face. Bloody bastard deserved it for running his mouth. Spouting rumors as if they were the gospel truth. What did he know? Nothing. 

His pace was quick as he headed toward the Llanith Farm. He hoped that either Dravin or Synda had seen her. He figured they’d be out this time of day. He was correct. Synda was feeding the chickens while Dravin hoed the garden. He stopped beside the fence. “Hey Dravin, have you seen Kirsli this afternoon?”

“Who?”

Balimund frowned, “Kirsli. She has long red hair, was wearing a green tunic and tan trousers. It’s probably been a half hour since she would have come by here.”

“I wasn’t paying attention. Too much work to do to keep a watch for wayward Nord girls,” he said.

“I think she went that way,” Synda pointed further down the lake trail.

Balimund glanced in the direction Synda had pointed to. He let out a weary sigh. He had warned her not to go that way. Faldar’s Tooth was further down the trail. The bandits who holed up there were known for keeping pit wolves. Deep within the bowels of that decrepit fortress they held weekly pit fights, usually it was the wolves fighting but occasionally it was man against beast. 

Dravin shook a finger at Balimund. “Let me ask you something. Have you had any trouble with the Thieves Guild?”

“No, why?”

“A couple of thieves broke in here a few nights ago. Stole everything of value we had, including my bow. I tried to report it to the Jarl, but she didn’t seem too inclined to do anything about it, not with that Maven standing there. I just thought I’d warn you.”

“Thanks, Dravin. Anyone foolish enough to break into the Scorched Hammer will end up being fed to my forge.” 

He took his leave of the Llanith’s, and headed skirted the small inlet. As he walked down the trail, he carefully checked the path for signs of fresh tracks. There were none. He stopped at the small eastern dock that belonged to Goldenglow Estate. She had to be around here somewhere. Turning around, he headed back to the inlet. He glanced up the hill, slowly scanning for any sign of her. Where could she be? 

As he was about to turn away, he caught a glimpse of color at the top of the hill. It could possibly be her. If it wasn’t at least he had a higher vantage point to search from. He climbed the steep grade, making his way around the rocks and thickets of scrub brush. As he neared the top, he caught sight of her resting in the grass. Her head was pillowed on her forearms. Her legs swung idly. Her feet even fidgeted to her soft humming. She was a beautiful sight. A chord of guilt moved through him for thinking that way. She was just too young, he told himself _again_. 

He waited, watching her. Wandering if she’d realize someone was there, but it seemed she was lost in her own world. He cleared his throat loudly and heard a startled gasp slip from her throat. She rolled onto her back, yanking her dagger from its sheath. She held it out to defend herself. “Damn it! You scared me!”

He crossed his arms, “I’ve been standing here long enough to have killed you a dozen times over. What have I told you about being out here alone? The wildlife is the least of the things out here that can hurt you. Do you really want to find yourself at the mercy of the bandits from Faldar’s Tooth or Fort Greenwall? Sweetie, you can’t even imagine what they’d to you and I wouldn’t want you to find out either. You have to be more aware of your surroundings.”

Kirsli sheathed her dagger and pushed herself to an upright position. She felt chastised by his charge and responded in kind, “Knowing how to properly wield this thing would benefit me don’t you think?”

“Knowledge is a powerful thing, Kirsli. Knowing when to fight is just as important as knowing how, but that isn’t the reason I followed you out here.” 

That peaked her curiosity.

Balimund felt his knees groan in protest as he sat down on the ground next to her, “We need to talk.”

~*~


	7. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirsli and Balimund have a talk, in which he discovers more had been going on than he ever expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is heavy with dialogue but there was much that needed to get out in the open. It gives a glimpse of things that happened to Kirsli before she was taken in by Balimund.

_We need to talk._

His words reverberated in her mind. It made her throat feel as dry as parched kindling. She knew what he wanted to talk about. What else would tear him away from his forge to come looking for her? It had to be her behavior. Or the fire salts. Or both. She had been ready to give them to him, but that was before her foolishness had most likely damned her in his eyes. Now she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it, but she knew he wouldn’t let her get away with not talking about it. 

She sighed, plucking a wildflower from the ground. Might as well get it over with. But that didn’t mean she had to make it easy.

“What’s there to talk about?” she answered cheekily, shrugging her shoulders. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on her forearms. 

“Kirsli.”

“What?!”

Though her insolence wore on his patience, he cautioned himself not to get angry with her. That would only make her run again. He could see right through her game and he was not going to fall for it. “Stop acting like a child.” His tone was even, yet full of censure.

“I’m not a child.” She turned glaring eyes upon him. “Don’t you dare treat me as such!” 

A ‘humphf’ escaped his throat as he eyed her thoroughly. Her eyes were bright and sparkled with indignation. Her skin was flushed. Her chest heaved. She was a glorious sight when angered. Like a hissing kitten. He had to remember though that even kittens had claws. “Then don’t act like one the moment you don’t get your way,” he stated. 

He wanted to be gentle with her as he always had. Raising his voice wouldn’t solve anything. It only lead to hurtful things being said that neither really meant. He cared for Kirsli. She had a sweetness about her that not even the worst of what had happened to her had extinguished. He enjoyed having her around the house. 

She laughed out loud as if that was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “How haven’t I gotten my way?”

He exhaled deeply and rubbed his face, “For one, you can’t writhe around on a man’s lap and expect nothing to come of it. I know you aren’t that naïve, Kirs. I know about Maul. I have heard him running his mouth about you. You may not have invited that from him, but if you behave like a tart, men will treat you like a tart. You know where that leads.” 

The look she gave him spoke volumes. “I may not have invited? No, I didn’t invite it. I didn’t ask to be raped. To have that arsehole take what he wanted whenever he wanted. It’s even worse that he still brags about it as if I wanted it. I hope one day that bastard gets what’s coming to him.”

“I promise you he will,” Balimund softly touched her face, caressing her cheek. “Listen to me. You are still young and have your whole life ahead of you. Live a little before you settle down and have a brood of kids that will ruin your beauty and see you grow old before you actually are. That’s what having kids does to you.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” She knew she was fishing for compliments, but she couldn’t help it. She felt so much for this man and it still seemed like he only saw her as his adopted daughter, the pathetic street urchin he took pity on. 

Balimund chuckled, his hands sliding up to ruffle her hair. “Of course you are. You know it. Everyone knows it. The women in this city are jealous of you. That’s why they make up such wild gossip.”

She rolled her eyes, “I know. Nivenor had the nerve just a few days ago to tell me to stay away from Bolli. As if. Ugh.” A disgusted noise slipped from her throat. “I told her she’d be better served turning her venom toward Haelga.”

Balimund laughed, “Ignore her. She only married him for his money. Both of them have had affairs. She’s insecure. She’s a trophy wife. Why else would a beautiful younger woman marry a well to do middle-aged man? Not for love.”

Kirsli bit her lip. She knew the point he was trying to make, but in her case, it wasn’t true. She might be younger than him, but when it came to the man sitting beside her it wasn’t money or material possessions that attracted her to him. She wanted him. His heart. His love. His arms around her. And she wanted to give that to him. She wanted to broach the subject, but she wasn’t quite sure how to begin. Maybe just pose a hypothetical question. Mara’s mercy, he’d probably just see through that. The worst he could do or say would be to turn her down. Yes, it would hurt. She shook her head, “Surely it’s not always that way, though. Younger women marry older men all the time, and I’m sure security is a major factor, but not the only one. You don’t think there aren’t couples like that who’ve married for love.”

“I wouldn’t discount the possibility. It’s been known to happen. Depends on the people,” he said. He knew why she was asking and shook his head. That wasn’t a can of worms he should consider opening with her. She was 16. He was 40. “I know why you ask. I’m old enough to be your father, Kirsli.”

She frowned at him, her eyes flashing. She didn’t want to hear him say that. “Don’t treat me like I’m a child. I’ve experienced things most my age haven’t. I happen to think I am much more mature than the average girl of 16.”

“And you won’t hear me disagree on that point. So why don’t you tell me how you came about the fire salts?”He pinned her with _that_ look. The one that meant he wouldn’t take her sass. He would get the answers from her even if he had to drag them out of her. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to know. She did. She leaned in real close, her voice dropping an octave. “I’ll make you a deal. You kiss me and I’ll tell you everything.”

The look he shot her was priceless. He couldn’t believe her audaciousness. He felt like he’d been kicked by a mule. It put him in an awkward position. He knew if he said no it would hurt her feelings and it would take longer to get the whole story out of her, but to give in… Despite the fact she was asking for it, he couldn’t help but feel it would be taking advantage of her. He wasn’t like Maul or Tythis Ulen. He cared about Kirsli. 

“Kirsli…”

She sprung up to her feet and headed down the hill. “Consider them a gift then,” she said rather flippantly.

He pushed off the ground, his knees protesting once more. His lower back joined in. _I’m getting too old for this_ , he thought. He followed her, though his face resembled a storm cloud, “Kirsli!”

She stopped in her tracks, turning to face him. She tried to keep her eyes averted, but the sharpness of his tone lifted them. They sparkled with unshed tears. He felt a pang of guilt course through him. He didn’t want to hurt her. “Awww sweetie, don’t cry.”

She sniffled, as her eyes burned. _Why couldn’t he just see_? 

“You tempt too much. Think about your actions.” 

She sighed, wiping the tears away. She walked down to the small inlet and sat down on the bank. “I can’t help it. I know how I feel. I know what I want.”

He sat beside her once more, “What you feel is infatuation.” 

She scoffed and muttered something he couldn’t quite make out under her breath. 

“Kirsli, I have work to back to. I think I have been patient with you long enough, but your insolence is getting old.”

_Enough is enough_ , she figured he had to be thinking. She had pushed as far as he would let her. As much as she hated relenting, she knew she owed him some answers. After all, if she didn’t, all her protests that she wasn’t a child would be for not. 

“Okay. You may think that I am dumb, deaf and blind, but I’m not.” Balimund opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “I realize how you worry about your forge, your livelihood. I hear things that you don’t think I hear, even though you and Asbjorn stop talking once I enter the room. Day in and day out you exhaust yourself working to produce the quality you are known for and don’t think I haven’t noticed how tired you are when you finally go to bed. I’ve noticed the meals you’ve skipped. You have done so much for me. I just wanted to help.”

“I understand that, but where did you get them from?” 

She fidgeted around, hoping he wouldn’t make her take them back once she told him. She could probably tell him she traded for them, but she knew he wouldn’t believe that. He surely knew how expensive they were. She didn’t want to lie to him. Nothing good would come of that. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled it. _Curses!_ Why couldn’t he just accept it as a gift?! Why did he have to make her explain? 

She pulled another flower out of the ground, plucking the petals from it. She was stalling. She knew it. He had to know it. Sooner or later he would lose patience. She was enjoying this, though. She had his undivided attention. And he was sitting so close. Right bloody next to her. Close enough she could smell the iron, taste the brimstone, and feel the heat coming off him. _Get a grip!_ Shor’s bones, she had it bad. 

“Earlier when the two of you hushed up quickly _again_ , I decided I’d had enough of you worrying about it, especially since the woman who promised you the fire salts has failed to deliver. Maybe don’t be taken in by a pretty face next time, huh?”

Balimund flashed an astonished look. Her sassiness and flip comment had taken him by surprise. He mulled that day over in his head, and certain things that happened stood out. That he didn’t see it before gave him pause to reconsider. “You little-”

“ _Me?_ What did I do?” She feigned innocence, though the glimmer in her eyes was anything but.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Smashing the wine bottle and making it look like an accident.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was watching a butterfly.” She stuck to her story but she knew Balimund had discovered the truth.

“Uh-huh. So the fire salts. Stop stalling and start talking.”

“Just don’t be angry with me.” She made a pouty face. “I went to Elgrim’s. I didn’t know you’d already been there to see if they had any, but I should have known. I wanted to trade Hafjorg for as much as I could. I didn’t know how rare or expensive they were. I was only thinking I wanted to help you.” 

“Kirsli honey, I appreciate that you wanted to help, but you needn’t worry the forge,” he said. Not that he wasn’t grateful for what she did bring him because he was. Very much so. 

“Hafjorg explained their value, and how there wasn’t anything that I could gather in that she would trade for. I asked how I could get them. She mentioned Wylandriah, the court wizard.”

Balimund groaned. “You didn’t.”

“Just listen.”

“I was headed up to the keep. I had information and a plan. Hafjorg provided me with a great deal of food for thought. Then Harrald sent me on the sword errand. When I took the sword back to him, he was in the midst of lunch so I went into Wylandriah’s room. I started asking questions. I thought wizards were supposed to be smart, but she is every bit as absentminded as Hafjorg said she was.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That I wanted to go to the College of Winterhold eventually, but in the meantime, I was interested in having a summonable guardian for when I’m outside of the city gathering alchemy supplies and that I like fire. So I wanted to trade for a flame atronach spell. Then she told me that the ones I summon wouldn’t drop any salts when it winks out of existence.”

He shook his head, a low chuckle in his throat. “I knew that. If that were the case I’d have one dancing over my forge.”

Kirsli stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry at him. His chuckle turned to a full belly laugh. He shouldn’t be laughing at her. The story she gave the wizard was clever indeed and didn’t in any way involve him. It impressed him that she could think on her feet so quickly. Being on the streets for as long as she was she must have had to. She was cleverer than he had given her credit for. 

“I didn’t know, but it didn’t matter anyway. Once I left the room, delivered the sword to Harrald and returned to her, Wylandriah had forgotten all about what we had talked about. So I asked her for fire salts. She brought me void salts. I told her no, I need fire salts. And this time she brings out frost salts and asks for 300 septims. At that point I was ready to lose my mind. I nearly yelled at her. She went back to her supply closet, and found what I wanted, but also found a spider. She’s terrified of spiders. She screamed. I came running in and killed the thing. I stabbed it with my dagger. It wasn’t small, either. About the size of my hand. She runs off to tell Jarl Laila I’m a hero and says the fire salts are my reward. She proceeds to get smashingly drunk. Jarl Laila humors her with the hero thing so I stowed the fire salts and got out of there as quick as I could. Then I stopped by Madesi’s, sold him the gems, and you know the rest.”

He scratched his mustache, mulling over everything she had told him. There was always a way for things to go tits up. His forge needed those salts, though. “You’re sure she won’t miss them.” What was he saying? He couldn’t believe those words just came out of his mouth. But could he really afford to give them back? 

“She’s hopelessly scatterbrained and her supply closet was a horrific mess. I highly doubt it. Plus she did say they were a reward _before_ she started drinking.” Kirsli reasoned. “And even if she does, I’m the one that took them, not you. Blame will fall on me. And I’ll take the blame.” 

He ran his hand through his hair, wincing as it tangled. “I couldn’t let you do that.”

“It doesn’t matter. I took them, not you. I would say I brewed potions out of them,” Kirsli retorted, “Resistance to Cold. I did tell her I wanted to go to the College and it’s very cold in Winterhold.”

“Everyone knows my forge consumes them.” The realization hit him that arguing with her was futile. Also fun and oddly satisfying. She had an explanation for everything. She was so smart. She’d be more than a match for any man when the time came, when she was truly ready. But not now. In a few years. She needed to get out of Riften. Experience what life had to offer _before_ she made the mistake of settling for an old blacksmith twenty-five years her senior. 

He smiled. She was special and whomever she married eventually should count his blessings that she chose him. He would miss not having her around when that day came. She was a little ray of light that had brightened his life. 

“Nothing may come of that, but sooner or later the little stories you tell here and there will eventually catch up to you.”

“It’s really not a lie. At one point I wanted to go to the College. I still could. I don’t know.”

Balimund nodded, “Having a goal is good. You are young and smart. If you put your mind to it, you could do anything.” His eyes shimmered with the pride for her. “Besides, you may not end up in trouble, but I probably will.”

She cocked an eyebrow, “Over what? Not the salts? We just went through that.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not the salts. When I was looking for you, Sigaar and Hofgrir were running their fool mouths. Hofgrir has a broken nose now and if Sigaar knows what’s good for him, he won’t come back to Riften.”

She buried her face in her hands and groaned, “Mara’s mercy, what did you do?”

Balimund considered his words very carefully. He didn’t want her getting any ideas. It wasn’t going to happen. “Sigaar thought he would speak of you and portions of your body in an explicitly sexual manner. I shut him up. When Hofgrir asked what was going on and I explained, he insinuated I had no reason to be angry because I’d been doing the same. Apparently Haelga’s been spreading rumors again. Like I said earlier she and other women in town are jealous of you.”

“So you broke Hofgrir’s nose. Pervert had it coming if you ask me. He gropes me and asks if I want to ride his pony. I say he deserved what he got.” Her face twisted in disgust.

Balimund’s brows furrowed. He could feel the anger building. That bastard. He realized he’d been blind to her plight all along. He may have given her somewhere to sleep away from the cold and the dragons, but there were far worse predators amongst the townsfolk, “Who else? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, but I can’t keep you safe if I don’t know what’s going on.”

He watched the emotions flash over her face. Her chin quivered. Her expression had turned somber. She licked her lips and took in a deep breath. “Maul raped me. That happened within a week of leaving Honorhall. He blindsided me one evening as I was heading back to my bedroll. A punch to the jaw. Next thing I knew my dress was hiked up to my waist, and I was bent over a barrel. He didn’t care I was a virgin. Then there was Tythis. I hadn’t eaten in three or four days. He brought me food, but it came at a price. He took what he wanted too and thought it was okay because he gave me food.” She covered her face in shame. He needed to know, but damn if it didn’t hurt to admit just how desperately hungry she had been.

He pulled her hands away, and gazed into her teary eyes. She tried to look away. “Kirsli honey, look at me. Look at me. It isn’t your fault. Tythis took advantage of you. Hopefully he burns in the fires of Oblivion for it.”

What Tythis had done disgusted him. Dangled food in front of a starving girl but wouldn’t give it to her unless she let him fuck her. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to head over to the Fishery and beat the Dunmer to a bloody pulp. He knew more violence wouldn’t solve anything and would further fuel the rumors about them. Still, it wasn’t right. 

“Most of the young single men around town have groped me at some point, even ones that come up from the Ratway. I heard they were from the Guild. It doesn’t happen very often anymore. Asbjorn has been a big help. He’s threatened quite a few. For a while Hemming was a problem but a black eye solved that.”

That elicited a hearty laugh from the smith. “Asbjorn gave Hemming a shiner, huh? Good for him. It surprises me that he didn’t mention it. I’m glad you two get along so well. I should head back to town, face the music. Most likely have to pay a fine. Doesn’t matter that he deserved it. Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

She shook her head at her and gazed at the water. “You go ahead without me. I think I’m going to go for a swim before it gets too cold to do so.”

He frowned at her. “I don’t think you should swim here. It’s too dangerous.”

She laughed softly, “I always swim here. I don’t want to swim near the docks because of Maul. That would be inviting trouble. If I go to the other shore there are mercenaries that the owner of Goldenglow hired. This is familiar. Merryfair Farm is right over there. There are Riften guards right close by. I’ll be fine.”

Letting her stay here was against his better judgment, but it was better than the alternative of the docks. “Alright, but don’t stay out here too long. Oh, the coin from the sale of the gems, you still have it on you, right?” Kirsli nodded and handed him the heavy pouch she’d had stuffed in her trousers. “I’ll lock this up for you. And before I forget, Shadr asked me to tell you to stop by. He had something to speak to you about.”

Kirsli shook her head. “Shadr just wants to grope me, too. Maybe once he sees Hofgrir’s broken nose, he’ll think twice.”

A noise of disgust slipped from Balimund’s lips. “He’d better learn. I’d hate to have to hurt him, especially since he seems like a good kid. You didn’t invite it, did you? Not even unintentionally?”

“No, I did not. He is nice, but not all that interesting. Horses are kind of dull.” She pushed herself from the ground and headed for the water, kicking off her shoes as she went. 

That was Balimund’s cue to leave. The last thing he needed was to be spying on her while she was swimming. Besides he had been away from the forge for too long. Adding the fire salts would help greatly. He started to walk away, but stopped for a moment, glancing over his shoulder with a smile on his face. 

“Kirsli, thank you for the fire salts. I do appreciate them.”

Her tunic flew up over a bush followed by her trousers. After that he heard as splash and a squeal. 

He kept walking. He figured it was time to face the music for his rash behavior.

~*~


	8. What Wrath Hath Wrought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell breaks loose in Riften when a potent storm hits the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added some additional tags recently. This chapter begins a big canon divergence. The muse took control of this chapter and wouldn't let go so get ready for a hell breaking loose. I was just kinda along for the ride. LOL 
> 
> This chapter is un-beta-ed. I was in too big of a hurry to post it, so sorry for any boo-boos. I tried searching through but I'm terrible at checking my own work. 
> 
> Warning for minor character deaths.

Balimund returned to his forge, letting Asbjorn know Kirsli was fine and all was well for the moment. He did wonder, however, when the guards would show up. He figured for sure that Hofgrir would have reported the assault. He had noticed when he passed by the stables that Sigaar was gone and neither the stable master nor his apprentice was outside. He shook his head, reminding himself that fretting over it like a fishwife would do him no good. _What’s done is done._ He’d deal with consequences when and if they came. For now he had work to do. 

And work he did. 

He paused long enough to glance into a woven basket laden with several different kinds of fish, including a rather mangled slaughterfish when Kirsli appeared at his side sometime later. Fish, chips and hush puppies would be for dinner. 

A couple hours passed, dusk quickly approaching, before a guardsman did stop by. It was Sigfrost, whom Balimund had always had a good rapport with. He explained what had occurred, stating he was merely protecting Kirsli and if anyone should be fined or arrested, it should be Hofgrir for preying upon a young girl. 

He crossed his arms, “All I’m saying is half the men around here have at some point treated her as such. She’s still a child. If I have to punch every last one of them in their faces to make them leave her alone, I will.”

“There are rumors that you-”

Balimund’s angry glare halted Sigfrost’s allegation. He held the red hot piece of steel up, “Don’t make me shove this where the sun don’t shine, you ignorant fuck. She’s a young girl.”

Sigfrost held his hands up, backing away a step or two. “I didn’t think you would, but the rumors do exist.”

“Haelga’s doing, no doubt. She must think since I won’t fuck her then I must have Kirsli in my bed every night. It’s not true. It’ll never be true. If Kirsli’s smart, which she is, she’ll get the hell out of this shithole. There’s nothing here.” He felt a small twinge rip through him. He was here and he’d miss her, but he knew she deserved more than an old smith, whether she could see it or not. 

“Hofgrir didn’t press charges. From what you’ve told me, he’s guiltier than you are. Just don’t make a habit of this. The paperwork involved is a big hassle. And besides, the Jarl would shit herself if we threw the city’s blacksmith in jail, especially with all the orders she’s placed.” 

Balimund laughed loudly, now that all the tension had dissipated. “I delivered a huge shipment of weapons and shields to her the other day. She finally paid me for the first three. I’m still waiting for payment on this last order. She said it would be another few weeks before she had it, but it allowed me to order ore from a couple nearby mines. I’ll have another complete order soon. She hasn’t said if there’d be any more after that.”

“From what I understand, the civil war is at standstill at the moment. There’ve been minor skirmishes, but I’ve heard it all hinges on Whiterun. Jarl Balgruuf wants to stay neutral. My sister lives in Whiterun and she told me in the last letter she wrote that the Dragonborn openly declared she’d single-handedly defend Whiterun against any Stormcloak or Imperial attempt to take the city.”

A wide grin crossed Balimund’s face, “I believe she could do it. She’s one hell of a spitfire. Did you see what she did to Brynjolf?”

Sigfrost glanced over his shoulder to an empty market stall. “He still hasn’t come back out here, huh? Serves the bastard right.”

“The Dragonborn, Aria, said she’d return to Riften last time she was here. She was supposed to bring me some fire salts for the forge, but I haven’t heard from her since.” Balimund shrugged. 

Sigfrost rubbed his chin, “I did hear that Kodlak Whitemane was killed during an attack on Jorrvaskr so that must have the Companions in a bit of disarray. With her being a member, that could be the reason why.”

Concern crossed Balimund’s face, tempering his earlier mirth. “Must be it then. I’ll have to send my condolences to her. Do you happen to know who would be stupid enough to attack the Companions?”

“No, but some of the guards think it had to be perpetrated by the Dark Brotherhood. Who else could infiltrate the best warriors in Skyrim and kill their Harbinger, especially with the Dragonborn as one of their members?” Sigfrost questioned. “There has been a lot of activity by the Brotherhood as of late. Old Grelod was killed last night.”

“What?!”

Sigfrost nodded, “Constance came to the keep in a panic this morning. Grelod’s throat was slashed wide open. The Jarl wanted to keep it quiet. She didn’t want cause for alarm to spread through town. We’ve all heard the rumors about the boy who ran away, about his alleged use of the Black Sacrament.”

Balimund rubbed his chin, “I’ll have to tell Asbjorn. I’m sure he’ll want to make sure Constance is alright. That boy is sweet on her.”

Sigfrost cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. When he noticed Kirsli coming toward them, he had to stop himself from staring at her. The girl was a beauty and would be downright gorgeous once she was older. 

Balimund had noticed though, “Uh-huh, don’t make me punch you, too. I will.” Mirth twinkled in the blacksmith’s eyes. He didn’t want to have to hit Sigfrost. The man was one of the few guards in Riften that wasn’t corrupt. 

“Just who are you punching now?” She shook her head as she glanced at the guardsman.

“I think that’s my cue to leave.” The guardsman wandered away, heading back out on his regular patrol.

“Did you need something, Kirsli?”

She nodded, glancing up at the darkening sky. Heat lightning flashed behind iron grey clouds. Thunder rumbled like a herd of mammoth charging across the prairie. “Looks like we’re in for a hell of a storm. It’s coming across Lake Honrich,” she commented as black storm clouds joined the grey ones. “I came out to tell you supper’s on the table.”

Then the sky opened up. Torrential rain poured down in heavy sheets. Kirsli shrieked and made for the door with Balimund on her heels after he managed to get the cover over the forge and secure it. Both were drenched by the time made it inside. 

“Where in the hell did that come from?” Balimund barred the door against the battering winds and rain. He hurried to his bedroom, grabbing a spare blanket from within the wardrobe. He placed it at the bottom of the door to stop water from coming in under the jamb. “Close the shutters!”

Kirsli raced to do just that, securing the heavy shutters on the windows. Once that task was done, she returned to Balimund. She shrieked at the sound of crackling lightning, and a loud explosion which sounded like it wasn’t too far away. “I’ve never seen a storm like this before,” she said, fear bright in her eyes. 

“Help me grab our plates and let’s take this downstairs. The basement is the safest place for us to be.” Balimund instructed. He wasn’t sure how long this storm would last, but they were better off where they were safest. 

Asbjorn gave them an odd look when they came down with their plates. “I appreciate the delivery, but what’s going on?”

“Are you deaf? Do you not hear that storm?” 

He brought the grindstone to a halt, listening for a moment. “Now I do. I see you both must have gotten soaked, so maybe you should put something dry on before you catch cold.”

Balimund chuckled. Sometimes the way Asbjorn acted he wondered who the ‘adult’ in the house truly was. Even though he still occasionally called Asbjorn a ‘boy’, he was a grown man in his own right. He had raised him to be authoritative and not take anyone’s shit. “I had planned on it, but I needed to help her carry things down here.” 

Plus he was ravenous and the food on his plate looked and smelled divine. The fish and chips were crispy and golden brown. The hush puppies looked plump and juicy. Still he needed to go back upstairs to grab a couple bottles of ale. 

“I am definitely getting out of these clothes,” Kirsli commented as she ducked behind her partition and opened her wardrobe. She pulled from within a simple dress, and dry small clothes. She quickly changed, tossing her wet and soiled garments into a woven basket. She’d had to wash laundry soon. She dreaded that. 

Balimund was also back, having donned a dark green tunic and loose tan trousers, by the time she returned to the small table they’d set up as this evening dinner table. It wasn’t often they all sat down at once for a meal so this was a pleasant change of pace. Conversation was light, for the most part. Balimund wanted to wait until they’d all finished eating to pass on the news about Grelod. He had a good idea how both Asbjorn and Kirsli would react. He couldn’t blame either of them. She had turned into a mean old woman. One that had finally got what was coming to her. 

Once he was finished, he pushed his plate away and rubbed his belly. “That was delicious, Kirs. Fresh fried fish and hush puppies so light and fluffy they melt in your mouth. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything finer. You have outdone yourself, girl.” His eyes shined bright with pride. She never failed to amaze him. 

She beamed, “Thank you. I followed Marise’s recipe precisely. I’d wanted to make this for a while. Today was just the perfect day.”

“Damn Kirs, you cook better than women twice your age. I hope whenever I get married, my wife can cook. If not, I’ll have you teach her.” Asbjorn commented after wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Well, if it’s Constance, you won’t have much to worry about. She is a good cook,” she replied. “I think someone needs to teach you some manners, though.”

“Me? I know my manners,” he retorted, fussing with her.

Kirsli snickered, “I don’t know about that. Your elbows aren’t supposed to be on the table when you eat and you shouldn’t chew with your mouth hanging wide open. Plus use a napkin, instead of your shirt.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ll remember that next I dine in the presence of Her Royal Majesty, Empress Kirsli.”

That seemed like the opportune moment to share the news. “I heard some news from Sigfrost earlier,” Balimund began. “Looks like Constance will end up running Honorhall on her own now.”

“What?

“How?”

“Old Grelod the Kind was murdered last night. Her throat was slit. Sigfrost suspects the Dark Brotherhood, says there’s been a rash of unexplained killings all over.” Balimund said.

“So Aventus pulled it off. When he ran away from Honorhall, he swore he would hire the Dark Brotherhood to kill Grelod. If anyone deserved it, she did.” Kirsli tried not to look happy by the news, but she knew she was failing horribly. “She would beat us for the littlest things and only feed us one meal a day. She would only let us go outside for an hour each day. Then she would make us chant ‘Thank you, Grelod. We love you, Grelod.’ I never thought I’d want to cheer over someone’s death, but hers… yes.”

“Don’t feel bad, Kirsli. She was just as bad when I was there. I think I was one of the last few adoptions she allowed, though. Of course there were rumors for years that she was secretly selling children. I doubt there was any truth to it, but there were a few children who mysteriously disappeared after a while.” Asbjorn added. He paused for a moment. “It’s a damn shame it’s storming like hell. It’d be nice to check in on Constance and the children to see how they’re faring. I know she didn’t care much for Grelod, but for something like that to happen in the orphanage surely scared her.”

Gale force winds slammed into the house, shaking it. “Damn. I hope those winds don’t tear the roof off.”

Lightning struck, a loud explosion echoing across the sky. Kirsli screamed, running for her bed. She dived between the furs, pulling them over her head. Balimund had to stifle a snicker. It wasn’t funny. Not really. The raging storm didn’t scare him, but it had him worried. Worried the violent winds would rip the cover off the forge. Worried about what the city would look like once the storm passed. 

The storm raged for hours unending, long into the night, surely fueled by something unnatural. What he could not guess. The stress of the day drove him to bed. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He listened to the winds howl, slamming the walls of the house. Rain still came down in torrential sheets. Thunder boomed and lightning struck. He pitied anything caught out in that. 

Other thoughts troubled him. He wasn’t sure what he’d do about Kirsli. She was a sweet girl. She was beautiful, and very young. He didn’t think he had done anything to encourage her infatuation with him. 

Damn, though. That little teasing smile. And her eyes twinkling with mirth. She usually smelled fantastic. And Sigaar hadn’t been wrong about the way she bounced when she ran.

 _Lord and damnation._ He was a lecherous old pervert for having those thoughts.

He knew it would be best that she get out of Riften before something happened that they’d both end up regretting. He’d hate to see her go. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew it was true. If only she wasn’t so young.

He stopped himself. Nothing good came from thinking like that. It would get him into more trouble than he could handle. 

He needed a woman… in the worst way. He wanted relief from an ache that a certain redhead had caused without any strings attached. Haelga didn’t interest him. None of the Ratway whores interested him. He could take matters into his own hands, but that held no appeal either. 

_What was a man to do?_

~*~

The storm finally abated sometime during the night and with the dawn, the citizens of Riften were out surveying the heavy damage the storm had wrought. The three inhabitants of the Scorched Hammer emerged to the sun shining bright. While their house had suffered minimal damage and Balimund’s forge none at all, others were not so fortunate. 

The charred remains of Black Briar Manor stood out starkly. The Meadery also suffered heavy damage, its roof partially torn off. Upon the island in the lake Goldenglow Estate was a smoldering ruin.

The stalls in the market had been leveled, reduced to splinters of wood by the force of the wind and rain. Haelga’s Bunkhouse and the Bee and Barb along with the Fishery, the Pawned Prawn, the Temple of Mara and Honorhall had suffered light damage, mostly shingles torn from their roofs. Riften Warehouse was a burned out shell, the bodies of Sarthis Idren and Orini Dral floating amongst near the canal. Beggar’s Row had flooded, as had most of the homes in the canal and parts of the Ratway. No one was yet certain of the death toll. 

In times of tragedy, everyone lent a helping hand. Jarl Laila left the security of her keep to survey the damage and see to the needs of her people. Some however were not interested in such. Maven’s strident voice could be heard throughout the town as she screamed at Laila, demanding compensation for the loss of her home and the damage to her business. The Black Briar Matriarch, Hemming, Ingun, and Maul all stood on the grounds of the temple. Ruin was all they could see between them and Mistveil Keep. 

Lightning had apparently struck the house, waking the sleeping inhabitants. They all had managed to make it out of the house, with naught but the clothes on their backs, when the second bolt struck. Maven claimed the lightning strikes sparked the fire which ignited the roof and consumed her great manor. 

Though there were others, members of the guard, who whispered of a dragon sighting, claimed they’d heard its thu’um thundering across the heavens during the worst of the storm. Others claimed someone was out for blood. Someone wanted to ruin Maven Black Briar. 

Some claimed if Maven pulled up stakes and left, the city would fall into further decline. The loss of one of its biggest industry’s would cripple Riften. Others relished in seeing her gone and would move quickly to fill the void the Meadery left. 

Only time would tell. 

~*~

It took months for the city to fully recover and by the time winter had set in, things were tentatively back to normal. Maven’s misfortune increased as the destruction of her country lodge and theft of her prize stallion, Frost, was brought to light. She and her family remained a guest of Jarl Laila in Mistveil Keep. 

But in the days following the massive storm, the death toll was finally confirmed. Nineteen of Riften’s citizens had lost their lives. Most were counted among the poor and destitute hiding out in the Ratway. Madesi survived the flooding of Beggar’s Row, but Edda and Snilf had not. In light of that tragic event, Madesi moved into Haelga’s Bunkhouse and Beggar’s Row closed off, by order of Jarl Laila Law Giver. 

Sarthis Idren and Orini Dral had drowned, as had Ratway inhabitants Drahff, Hewnon Black-Skeever, Hefid the Deaf, Knjakr, an ex-Imperial soldier named Salvianus, and Gian the Fist. There were nine others found, five males and four females in what the guards claimed had been a skooma den, but they had no names or information for them. It would be up to Arkay to bless their souls and see them to a better afterlife.

That much death at once had put a strain on poor Alessandra, who reached out to other priests of Arkay from neighboring holds. Runil from Falkreath responded as did Andurs from Whiterun, but Helgird in Windhelm had her hands full with the Butcher murdering young women. 

Cooler temperatures settled in. Most mornings brought scattered snow flurries. But life continued on. The remains of Black Briar Manor were hauled away and construction had begun on an even larger manor house where it had once stood. Rumors abounded of where the money came from to build so extravagantly. It was the new topic of gossip whenever people met up in town or at the Bee and Barb. Some said Maven had bullied Laila into paying out a fortune for the damages. Others claimed she called in favors from the Thieves Guild. She had backed and supported them long enough. Now it was time for pay up. 

Other business owners like Balimund knew it had to have come from the Jarl. He had delivered one final shipment of weapons to her, only to learn his payment for it and the one before would be delayed indefinitely due to the storm. He told her then and there any further orders would require the payment she owed him for the work already done plus payment in full ahead of time. He had lived up to his end of the bargain on time, despite the storm and its aftermath. He expected her to live up to hers. 

It wasn’t the Jarl’s fault Maven’s home had burned to the ground during a storm. It was a disaster, plain and simple, but Maven thought only of herself. It was a pity the bitch hadn’t perished in the fire. 

Aringoth, owner of Goldenglow Estate and supplier of the honey which Maven’s Black Briar Mead was produced from, had sold the bee farm to an unknown buyer in the aftermath of the storm. Nothing remained standing on the island. The house had burnt down as had all the apiaries. The wood elf and his mercenaries had barely escaped with their lives. 

Somehow production resumed at the Meadery once the roof and significant water damage had been repaired. To hear Maven tell it though, the storm was a carefully disguised attack against her. And someone would pay for that.

~*~

In the midst of all the rebuilding, Balimund noticed Talen-Jei making the rounds in the market place, handing something out while he worked a blade on the grindstone for a wandering minstrel. Kirsli was nearby at the tanning rack, working some leather. She’d recently expressed an interest in wanting to learn so he started her on the basics, tanning leather. She hated it most days, grumbling over the smell. But it kept her busy and kept the foolish thoughts out of her head. 

When the Argonian stopped by the forge, he had a wide smile on his green scale reptilian face. “Tidings, Balimund. How are you this wonderful day?”

The smith raised a brow. Something had Talen in a chipper mood, “Can’t complain, I suppose. And you?” 

“Quite well, thank you.” 

Talen’s smile seemed to go on for days, and it was a pleasant change from the somber mood everyone had been in as of late. He brought the grindstone to a stop, examined the edge on the blade then turned his attention back to the Argonian. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I’ve seen you all around the market.”

“I have been personally delivering invitations to an engagement party. I asked Keerava to marry me and she said yes,” Talen-Jei replied. “It’s this coming Loredas. We’d love to have both you and Kirsli in attendance. Oh, and Asbjorn as well.”

“Congratulations to both of you. It’s about time you make an honest woman of her, Talen,” Balimund chuckled. “I’m happy for you. She is a fine woman. I’ll let Asbjorn know, unless you plan on dropping an invite off at Honorhall. He spends most his time there with Constance. I do believe there may be wedding bells in his future, too. He hinted about asking her the other night.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever be able to ask her. In Black Marsh, we have a tradition of presenting our intended with a special ring. I had the band, but lacked the three flawless amethysts for the setting. A few months back a woman was in the Bee and Barb, I’d never saw her before or since, but she promised she’d get them for me.”

“Was she blonde? Real pretty? Wearing studded armor?” 

Recognition flashed through Talen’s eyes. “Yes, that’s her.”

“Her name is Aria. She’s the Dragonborn.”

Talen looked stunned. “I never thought someone like her would take an interest in something I needed, but the amethysts arrived not long after by courier. I then had Madesi put the whole thing together. We had originally planned the party a while back, but it didn’t seem right after the storm hit.”

Balimund tried to keep the emotions from his face. Anger, disappoint, foolishness. What was it that Kirsli had said that fateful day? _Maybe don’t be taken in by a pretty face next time, huh?_ If that wasn’t the truth. He’d learned his lesson. He really wasn’t out much. A suit of armor. The fire salts Kirsli had gotten for him had been enough to ‘kickstart’ his forge back to life. They kept it going until he could place an order with his usual supplier. Still it bothered him that she toyed with him and never meant to follow through. “Well, I’m sure Kirsli will be excited about going. I think it might be just what we need to make this place feel not so dreary. Thank you. We’ll see on Loredas.”

As Talen continued on making his rounds, Kirsli bounded over, having heard portions of the conversation. “Did he say party? Does that mean there will be dancing?”

“Yes, Kirs. I’m sure there will be dancing.” 

She squealed, “I’ve never been to a dance. Oh I’ll need to buy a new dress.”

He shook his head at her, “Rein it in. You have work to do first. If that hide is tanned to my satisfaction, I’ll let you run over to Bersi’s after dinner. That is you don’t spend too much time daydreaming and burn our dinner.”

“Oh, you!” She huffed indignantly. “I have never once burned your dinner. You just keep it up and I just might. I’ll feed you charcoal.”

Balimund’s laughter boomed loudly. It was so fun to get a rise out of her. She puffed like a banty hen. He had to admit it took an edge off the sore feelings left behind by Aria. _Never again_ , he told himself. _Never trust a beautiful woman_. And people wonder why he was a still a bachelor. It was less complicated this way. Not that he hadn’t hoped the right woman would come along at some point. Ah, but he was better off. He had his work and Kirsli to think about. Keeping her on the straight and narrow was a full time job. 

That had to be enough. Maybe someday it wouldn’t be. But for now, it would do. 

~*~


	9. A Slew of Suitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirsli has her choice of dates for the impending party, but not the one she wants. Also Aria returns to Riften.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with Aria's explanation of what happened to the Companions. It just made more sense to write it the way I did. 
> 
> The dress Kirsli buys from Bersi is from a mod. Also it isn't sold at Bersi's store either. More liberties there. But the dress is from the [Elven Dresses by Naihaan](http://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/mods/39922/?) mod.

The tanned hide Kirsli presented him was good quality work. He was quite pleased with it and told her so. She beamed at his approval. Balimund wasn’t surprised, though. She was an eager student, hungry for knowledge. Her young mind was a sponge, absorbing information as fast as it was presented. She had succeeded in every task he’d set her to so far. It made him even more sure that she should get out of Riften. She could do anything she set her mind to. 

After Kirsli had completed her lessons at the forge and fixed a wonderful supper, she ran off to look at Bersi’s supply of dresses. She wanted something special for the dance. She hoped she could convince Balimund to be her date. Maybe if she worked the ‘it’ll keep everyone else from groping me’ angle it would convince him. Besides there was no one else in town he’d go with. 

The selection of dresses at the Pawned Prawn left much to be desired, but he had one that was very pretty. It was deep green with a gold embroidered neckline and belt with flowing lighter green sleeves. She couldn’t believe she’d find such a treasure here. “Bersi,” she exclaimed. “I want this one!”

“Oh, that one, huh?” Bersi frowned. “Nivenor had it special ordered all the way from Alinor and then when it got here, she wouldn’t take it because she said it was the wrong color. If I let that go for anything less than 200 septims, I’d be losing money. Honestly, girl, I don’t think you have that kind of money.”

Kirsli placed her hands on her hips and stared him down, “Actually I do. Hold the dress. I’ll be back for it in a few minutes.” 

Bersi raised an eyebrow at her as she dashed out of the shop. She returned to the Scorched Hammer, skidding to a stop near Balimund. She watched him for a few moments while he worked the bellows, then grabbed a half forged sword. He pounded upon the metal, shaping it. He seemed to know she was there, for he glanced up at her. “Do you need something, Kirsli? Thought you were off to buy a dress?”

“I was, but I didn’t take enough coin with me. I need into my savings,” she said with a smile. 

Balimund nodded, “Give me a few and I’ll be in, alright?” 

She dashed into the house and sat by the hearth. The house was quieter now that Asbjorn wasn’t around as much. She was happy for him and Constance. She smiled and thought of the Amulet of Mara he’d been carrying around as of late. He also commissioned a special ring for Constance from Madesi. She thought it was so romantic. It seemed so many people were getting married. Keerava and Talen Jei and soon Asbjorn would ask Constance. She’d even heard whispers that Aerin would finally propose to Mjoll, even though she never knew there was anything romantic between the two. A part of her couldn’t help but feel envious. She wanted that…a husband, a family. She knew it wouldn’t happen, though. The one she wanted didn’t feel the same about her. She could hope, though. Maybe, someday.

She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. A squeak came from her lips, “You scared me!”

Balimund chuckled, “Sorry, Kirs. I thought you heard me come in. Let’s get your gold.”

She followed him into his bedroom where he knelt down at the safe. He worked the lock, opening it then reached inside and grabbed the pouch she’d given him months ago. “Oh, Valindor is outside. Said he wanted to talk to you. I bet he wants to invite you to go to Keerava and Talen’s engagement party with him.”

“Oh,” she sighed. Valindor was nice and cute. One of the few men in Riften who hadn’t groped her. He just wasn’t what she wanted, though. “Okay.” 

She watched Balimund leave the room and counted out the coin she’d need for the dress. It was an awful lot of money for one dress, but nobody in Riften would have one like it. She’d surely be the belle of the ball, so to speak. Once she returned her remaining coin to the safe, she closed it, making sure it was locked and left the house. 

Valindor waited near the forge for her. She approached him, a smile on her face, “Hello.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “I was wondering would you be my date to the engagement party?”

Kirsli turned her head away, glancing towards Balimund. She leveled almost pleading eyes upon him, begging for help. 

“It’s up to you, Kirsli. I’ll be closing the shop that night, maybe even ask someone myself,” Balimund replied. He immediately noticed her glare before she turned back to Valindor. 

“Can I get back to you on that?” She replied. “I’ve never been to a dance before.”

“Oh sure,” he said as a dejected look crossed his face. “You’ve probably have a lot of offers to consider.”

He walked away with slumped shoulders. Having to turn him down made her feel bad, but she wanted Balimund to be her date. She’d just have to convince him. Maybe once he saw her in her new dress. Heading back to the Pawned Prawn, she handed Bersi the 200 septims he was asking for the dress and immediately took it home. 

She had to make some adjustments to it. It was too tight in the bodice, for one. And the waist had to be let out as well. It was obvious it was originally made for an elven woman. It was a good thing Kirsli was so petite or even with her adjustments she would have never been able to fit into the dress.

It made her feel pretty. 

~*~

The next day saw a steady stream of young men coming by the Scorched Hammer to ask Kirsli to the party. First it was Ungrien on a mid-morning break from the Meadery. Balimund hadn’t given her any lessons due to her working on the dress she bought. He motioned at the door, letting the Bosmer know Kirsli was inside. When Ungrien left a few minutes later, he had the same dejected expression that Valindor wore the night before. It was obvious she either didn’t give him an answer or turned him down.

A little while later, a mage for hire named Marcurio who kept a room at the Bee and Barb came to call. That one puzzled Balimund. He wasn’t even aware they knew each other, but still he directed the mage inside the house. This one he noted was in the house longer than the others had been. It must be because Kirsli had expressed an interest in going to the College of Winterhold. When the mage left, he was whistling a tune. Balimund wasn’t sure what that meant. Had the girl actually chosen a date or was this one just better at hiding it than the others? 

When he went inside for lunch, and asked her if she had accepted someone yet her vague response was ‘just seeing what my options are.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose and growled frustratingly, knowing the young swains would keep bothering him until she chose someone. 

“You can’t just string them along. You have to make a choice,” he reminded her, with a very disapproving look on his face. 

Kirsli glared back, “Maybe I’m waiting for the right one.” She bounded down into the basement to finish the adjustments on her dress.

 _Teenagers_ , he thought ruefully, as he wearily rubbed his face. _I’m too old for this_. He had no sooner headed back to the grindstone when Tythis approached him.

“Is Kirsli here?” The Dunmer asked.

“What do you want with Kirsli?” Balimund replied, none too kindly. 

Tythis eyed the smith suspiciously, wondering why he seemed so unfriendly towards him. “I wanted to ask her to the party. Is that a problem?”

Balimund pulled the sword he’d been sharpening away from the grindstone and stood up, his hands on his hips with the sword still in hand. A very stern look crossed his face, his eyes narrowing angrily, “You of all people dare to ask if that’s a problem? After what you did to her? Dangled food in front of a starving girl, but wouldn’t let her have it unless she let you fuck her. I’d say that’s a problem, elf. Now get out of here before I shove this where the sun don’t shine and don’t let me see you anywhere near her. Understood?”

Tythis backed away quickly. He could see there would be no reasoning with the blacksmith. 

Romlyn Dreth was the next to stop by, about an hour after Tythis. What was it with the elves all coming to ask Kirsli? He didn’t get it. Wouldn’t they rather be with their own kind? Romlyn fared worse than all the rest. Kirsli turned him down flat.

Then there was Shadr, another hour after Romlyn. Balimund watched as Kirsli slapped him and told him to go fondle one of his horses. He tried to keep a straight face, but knew he had failed. It made him very proud of her. 

“I’m going over to Honorhall for a while to help Constance,” Kirsli said as she dashed off. He groaned, wondering how many more suitors would stop by to ask her to be their date for the party. 

If only she would just pick someone. 

~*~

As mid-afternoon waned into dusk another admirer stopped by to ask her to be his date. One Balimund hadn’t expected. It was Saerlund, one of Jarl Laila’s sons. 

“Pardon me, is your ward Kirsli present by chance?” Saerlund asked, though he seemed rather nervous.

Though he had grown tired of the constant interruptions because of this party, he had to bite his tongue on this one. He certainly couldn’t yell at the Jarl’s son. “No, she is not, my lord. I believe she’s visiting Honorhall.”

Saerlund leveled a haughty look upon Balimund. “Why would she go there?”

The smith replied, “She grew up there. Now that Constance runs the place, she often helps out with the children. Can I give her a message from you? I’m rather busy right now.”

Saerlund shook his head, “No, I shall come back tomorrow. I thank you for your time.” 

A mage, the Jarl’s son, almost every eligible bachelor in Riften had been by to ask Kirsli to this damned party. He shook his head. With each interruption to his work, Balimund grew even more annoyed. At this rate, he wouldn’t get anything done.

The next interruption was Grelka. “Excuse me,” she began in her usual disdainful voice. “I was wondering if you had a date for Keerava and Talen’s shindig and if you didn’t, would you go with me.”

Balimund had planned on asking someone, but it wasn’t Grelka. “Sorry, Grelka, I have a date already,” he crossed his fingers and hoped the woman he had in mind would accept so he wouldn’t be lying. 

“Oh, so the rumors are true.”

“No, they’re not. And no, my date isn’t Kirsli. Haven’t you noticed the slew of men who’ve come through here to ask her to go with them?” He retorted. “You know, Grelka, you’d be a whole lot prettier if you smiled once in a while.” Then he turned back to the forge. She hissed in outrage and stalked away, back to her reconstructed stall. He worked the bellows, rejuvenating the flame inside the forge. His focus returned to the sword he’d been shaping. It was turning out quite nice, a piece he could sell in his shop for a good price, but it was at a critical stage right now. Any more interruptions would surely have him tossing it into the scrap pile. 

~*~

The sound of a hammer ringing against the anvil drew her like a moth to a flame. It had been a while since she’d been to Riften, since she’d seen him swing that hammer, the muscles bunching and releasing beneath his tunic and apron. He was still a gorgeous sight to behold. This time, she reminded herself, she had to behave. As she stared, from her perch on the wall near where Brynjolf’s stall once stood, unabashed, he plucked out a red hot length of steel. She watched his brows furrow, his muscles contracting, before he slapped the steel onto the anvil. The sword blade he had been shaping had his full attention. Her eyes lingered on him, watched as his lips moved. She imagined him sweet-talking the steel, coaxing it into shape with the sound of his voice and the blows of his hammer. 

She focused on his high cheekbones and wide jaw. The heat from the forge and the soot from the smelter seemed permanently worked into the lines of his face, so many years of hard labor. His wheat colored hair had been tied back, a few leather-bound plaits shifted softly at the side of his face. Each smack of his hammer sent beads of renewed sweat dripping down his chin to sizzle upon the anvil.

She hopped down from her perch, imagining what he would look like when he was scrubbed clean and all dressed up. Now was her chance to find out. She closed the distance between them, clearing her throat as she stopped in front of the forge. 

He didn’t seem to have heard her, didn’t even look away as he shoved the sword blade back into the fires of his forge before pulling it back out and placing it back on the anvil. He hammered it into a smoother shape, pleased with how it is coming along. But whatever was blocking his light was getting annoying.

“Did you need something?” He asked without looking up. “Or are you just going to stand there blocking my light? And before you ask, no, Kirsli isn’t here right now. Well, speak up!”

“I’m not here for Kirsli,” she purred. His assertiveness amused her.

“What do you want then?” he groused before he looked up at her at the smiling woman. This was someone he hadn’t expected to see.

“Have I come at a bad time?”

“Aria,” he breathed, setting the hammer back on the anvil and stepping over to the blonde-haired Nord standing before him. Seeing her there, a smile on her beautiful face, made him feel like he’d been gut punched. An array of emotions coursed through him. He could have lost his forge if it hadn’t been for Kirsli bringing him the fire salts. He felt swindled, foolish to have fallen for a pretty face. There were a million things he wanted to say to her, but in that moment words escaped him.

Balimund's honey brown eyes slowly looked her up and down until he caught her silvery gaze. There was something different about her now. Something he hadn’t noticed all those months ago. She was just as beautiful as he remembered but there was an intensity that thrummed about her. Could it be she’d grown in power as the Dragonborn?

“Can we talk?” She asked. She had a sincere look upon her face. “I know you’re busy…”

He nodded. He should at least hear her out. He figured she had come to Riften for Keerava and Talen Jei’s party. “Give me a few moments to properly cool this sword and I’ll be in. Just make yourself at home.” 

He watched as she walked away, forcing his mind back to the blade on his anvil and away from the turmoil that threatened to take over. He dowsed the metal in the trough, hearing it sizzle. He knew he’d have to quench the blade properly, but for now, this would do. 

Once he’d stowed it and a few other pieces he’d worked on that day in a locked box under his workbench, he made his way into the house. Aria was seated before the fireplace, flipping through a stack of papers. He made it a point to thoroughly wash his hands and face before he joined her.

“What are those, if you don’t mind me asking?” He motioned to the stack of papers.

“Bounties and such,” she smiled at him, “The joys of being Harbinger.”

“Harbinger, is it now? That’s a lofty title. I heard about what happened to Kodlak Whitemane. You have my sincerest condolences.” Balimund replied as he reached out to caress her hand. 

“It was a terrible time from the Companions. First we lost Skjor. Then we lost Kodlak. I thought the Circle would tear itself apart in grief but Kodlak’s wisdom held us together even though he was gone.” She gave him a wan smile. “I thought for sure Vilkas would be named his successor, but no, Kodlak chose me.”

“We heard the rumors that followed his death, but those never said who was responsible for attacking the Companions. Personally I think anyone who’d take on you lot has a death wish. Who’d attack the Companions when the Dragonborn is one of their members?”

Aria laughed, “Oh yes, they had a death wish. It was the combined efforts of a group called the Silver Hand and the Dark Brotherhood. One of the members of the Brotherhood used to be a Companion. In fact, he was a part of the Circle. He turned over Companion secrets to the Silver Hand. Let’s just say once we had wiped out the Silver Hand and avenged Skjor and Kodlak, I made it my mission to go after the Brotherhood. And now they are no more. I shouted the door right off of their sanctuary with the blessing of the Penitus Oculatus and painted the walls red with their blood. Even the traitorous ex Companion. He thought he could best me in combat. I proved him wrong. It’s never wise to piss off the Dragonborn. I’m a vengeful bitch when I have to be.”

“You wouldn’t be a Nord if you weren’t,” Balimund chuckled, though she seemed a little bit scarier than she ever had before. “I’m wondering, though, if you took care of the Brotherhood, who was behind the murder of Old Grelod over at the orphanage.” 

Aria pursed her lips, and exhaled, “That was me. I had heard about the boy in Windhelm who was trying to call the Dark Brotherhood so I went to see him. He thought I was one of them. He told me his story, told me about Grelod and the how horrible she was, and as far as I knew, the Brotherhood hadn’t made a move to take this kid’s contract. Plus I was searching for them for a different reason. Now killing an old woman in her bed isn’t heroic or something I’m proud of, but it was a means to an end. Astrid made the mistake of coming after me personally. I roasted her alive with my fire breath. From what I’ve heard, the children are better off now and the world is rid of the Dark Brotherhood. So I call that a win-win. You probably think I’m horrible now.”

“Not at all. Grelod deserved it. We all knew it. Most people preferred to look the other way and do nothing about the way she treated her charges. I think Asbjorn and Kirsli would thank you if they knew, but I’m guessing you don’t want that getting out so I won’t say a thing,” he surmised.

“Thank you. I’d rather everyone believe that was a Dark Brotherhood hit. I am Harbinger now. I have a certain reputation to uphold.” Aria straightened her shoulders and tried to look dignified. “Actually, one of the reasons I stopped by...” she reached down into the satchel sitting upon the floor and pulled out a rather large earthen crock. “I believe I owe you some fire salts.”

Balimund blinked at her. He hadn’t expected that. “I had written those off quite some time ago. Kirsli actually managed to get a hold of some to tide me over until I could place an order with my usual supplier.”

Aria shrugged her shoulders, “After I returned to Whiterun is when things started escalating with the Silver Hand. They are a group who has fought the Companions for many years. Some would even say they’ve hunted us, for reasons I can’t go into. Every group has its secrets. I sent couriers out with things I’d promised to various people. I found out not long ago that all of them reached their destination except one and of course it was the one carrying your fire salts. Oddly enough he was killed by a mage who summoned a flame atronach. So whether you need them or not now, here is double what you originally asked for.” She handed him the crock. It was warm to the touch.

It also warmed his heart. “That’s quite ironic. I should have known that something went wrong. I didn’t think you were the type to promise something and not follow through, but I have to admit, at one point when it seemed the forge was ready to give out, I cursed you for it. I thank you for these.” He placed the crock in his room where it wouldn’t be disturbed.

“You are very welcome,” Aria smiled. “So how about you take me to dinner?”

His smile matched hers, “Only if you’ll go with me to Keerava and Talen’s party on Loredas?”

“I’d be happy to. In fact I was going to ask you, but you beat me to it.” Aria’s eyes twinkled like stars in the heavens. 

“Give me some time to clean up and I’ll meet you at the Bee and Barb,” he smiled, his eyes shining brightly. She had just made his day. He couldn’t believe his luck. Perhaps there was hope after all. 

“I can do that. I need time to get out of this armor anyway,” Aria giggled then headed for the door. 

Balimund took a few minutes to mull over in his mind what had just happened. Not only did she bring him fire salts, but he wouldn’t have to worry about asking anyone else to the party, not even the woman he had in mind. Of all the things he was sure would happen today, this wasn’t even on his list. Not that it didn’t make him happy, for it had. 

Grabbing the crock of fire salts he immediately took them outside and fed them to his forever hungry forge. It blazed to life. While it was a beautiful sight to see, he had another beauty on his mind. He whistled a happy tune as he headed back to the house. Once inside he set up the tub in the basement. He had to carry in water from the well in the market, but he made quick work of that and warmed it with a fire spell. 

After a quick but thorough bath, he dressed in the finest clothes he owned. The maroon brocade finery still fit despite the fact he hadn’t wore it in years. He brushed out his hair, and re-plaited the sides then trimmed his mustache. Finally he slipped his feet into the shoes that matched the outfit. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a date. He knew, though, if he approached this with the same confidence he put into his work, he’d be just fine. Still it wasn’t everyday that an ordinary smith had the Dragonborn as his date. He was looking forward to where this went.

~*~

On his way out, he ran into Kirsli carrying her basket full of foodstuffs. “Balimund, I have a new recipe I want to try out. Oh, are you going somewhere?”

“Yes, to the Bee and Barb for dinner. So how about you try out your recipe tomorrow night?” He smiled down at the petite redhead who at her full height barely reached the top of his shoulders. 

Kirsli frowned, looking particularly dejected. “Oh okay. I’ll just rummage around for something. You have a nice time.” She watched him walk away, heard the happy tune he was whistling. Who was he having dinner with? She turned away and went into the house, but her curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to know. 

~*~


	10. Dinner with the Dragonborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening of fine dining and threats leads to retaliation Balimund never anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up the story that Balimund tells about his past. He's probably my favorite non-warrior type marriageable character. I've had many characters marry him. 
> 
> "Dreh ni fus dii bah" is dragon tongue for "Do not force my wrath!"
> 
> Kaan Drem Ov - Kyne's Peace shout (Kyne Peace Trust)
> 
> Aria outfit during dinner is a port from Witcher 3. Yennefer's DLC outfit.

He whistled the melody to ‘Ragnar the Red’ while crossing the short distance from his home to the inn. He had hoped he wouldn’t run into Kirsli, but was relieved that the encounter went better than he would have expected. He figured she’d ask a dozen questions and then get mad about him dining with Aria. At times he was at his wits end about what to do with her. He had tried to convince her he was too old for her. She had backed off quite a bit, but he knew her ardor hadn’t cooled entirely. He knew she still watched him, still hoped for something she couldn’t have. It made him more resolute in his thinking that she should get out of Riften. Nothing good would come if she stayed.

He pushed those thoughts aside and made his way into the Bee and Barb. Aria was sitting upon one of the stools in front of the bar, chatting with both Keerava and Talen Jei. She looked resplendent in dark blue blouse with black feathers at the top of her sleeves that left her shoulders bare, a tight black corset, black skirt and thigh-high black leather boots. Her blonde hair fell over one shoulder in silky waves that he longed to touch. He couldn’t help admiring her from afar. She was magnificent. 

“There’s my date,” she announced, hopping off the bar stool. She strutted across the room, as if they were the only two people in the room. “I was beginning to wonder. Thought maybe you’d stand me up.”

Her grin told him she was teasing. “Never,” he replied. “It’s not every day that I have such delightful company.”

Talen approached them, “Would you like a table down here or would you prefer to dine privately upstairs?”

“Down here is fine, Talen,” Aria nodded toward an empty table and smiled. “Don’t go to any extra trouble on my account.”

“Thank you, my lady,” the Argonian said and directed them to the table. He handed them each a menu. “Let me know when you are ready to order.”

“Talen, call me Aria, please. We are friends. I get so tired of being ‘my lady-ied’ and ‘my Thane-d’ and ‘Harbinger-ed’ and ‘Dragonborn-ed’ to death.” She gently reminded him with a pleading look in her eyes.

He nodded, “Yes, my- Aria.”

She glanced over the menu then turned her gaze to Balimund. “I don’t know about you, but I think I’ll have the venison steak with a baked potato and a piece of that jazbay crostata Keerava was talking about earlier. Oh and one of your specialty drinks, please.”

“Which one?”

“Surprise me,” Aria smiled widely up at Talen.

Balimund handed his menu to Talen, “I’ll have what she’s having, except for the specialty drink. Just make mine an ale.”

Talen smiled, “I’ll have this right out to you.” The Argonian headed off toward the kitchen leaving Aria and Balimund alone at the table. 

She grinned at him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, “You clean up real nice. Who’d have thunk it?”

“Thunk? Is that even a proper word, Miss Dragonborn?” he chuckled, teasing her right back. A pretty pink blush crossed her cheeks, causing her to avert her eyes for a moment. She knew she was playing coy, but she had to. Otherwise, she’d end up doing something she knew she shouldn’t. Farkas had agreed to marry her and she couldn’t be happier about it. 

“I make up my own words,” she quipped. “But what I meant to say is you look very nice tonight.”

“I’ve been known to knock the soot from the forge off every once in a while, if I have a reason,” he winked. “Most days I spend from dawn to near midnight slaving away. My forge, she’s a demanding mistress.”

“Oh, is that why there’s no little woman? Why you’ve never settled down?” 

Balimund watched her carefully, gauging her reaction as he spoke his next words, “Are you applying for the position of little woman?”

Her expression sobered. She wasn’t sure what to say. She knew she would have to tell the truth, but she didn’t want to ruin the evening. She certainly didn’t want to lead him on.

“You don’t have to answer that,” he spoke up, certain a woman like her didn’t spend her nights alone. He figured there was someone in her life, someone better suited to her way of life. He certainly couldn’t see her settling for a blacksmith. “In fact, I shouldn’t have asked.” 

She plastered a smile back on her face, “No, it’s fine. I shouldn’t tease the way I do.”

“Who is the lucky man then?” Balimund ventured to ask even though he felt a twinge of jealousy. It was silly, he knew. This was only the second time he’d ever met her. He had no claim on her life.  
“His name is Farkas. He’s a Companion, one of my Shield-Brothers. He’s the one who convinced me to join in the first place. Alvor of Riverwood had asked me to let Jarl Balgruuf know about Helgen and the dragon lurking about because Riverwood is just a small village with no wall so I headed off to Whiterun. I made it close to the city, and in the fields of one of the outlying farms is this giant. At first all I can see is it smashing its club into the ground. I pulled my crappy bow and fire at its head. I run forward and I see three warriors fighting it. Aela was a short distance away, firing arrows at it. Farkas and Ria were at its feet, hacking away at it with their swords. I kept firing, hoping I wouldn’t hit one of them.”

Balimund leaned in, raptly listening to her tale. 

“Finally, it lets out a thunderous roar and keels over. The ground shook under our feet. I approach, hoping to salvage some arrows from its thick hide. I didn’t have very much coin. Alvor gave me what he could spare. He made me some decent armor so I wouldn’t get killed on the way. It wasn’t anywhere near the quality of work you would produce, but it worked well enough starting out. Aela comes over and says something like ‘Well that’s taken care of, no thanks to you.’ Oh that made me mad. I promptly told her that not all the arrows sticking out of that damned giant were hers and she needed to learn to look before she opened her mouth. I must’ve impressed her because she grinned at me before she walked away. Ria followed her, but Farkas stayed behind. He told me not to listen to Aela, and thought my shots were a great help and that I should join the Companions. He also said that if I had the moxie to stand up to Aela like that, I’d probably make a great addition.”

Talen Jei brought their meals to the table, along with their drinks. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thank you, Talen,” Balimund spoke up before turning his attention back to her. “I remember you telling me about the celebration after you’d killed your first dragon at Whiterun. I bet the Companions were more welcoming of you then.”

Aria shook her head, “Not all of them. Vilkas wasn’t. He and Farkas are twins, but that is where the similarities end. Farkas is a big overgrown puppy. He’s very enthusiastic about everything. And I’m definitely not marrying him for his brains. Vilkas on the other hand is very intellectual, very knowledgeable on many subjects. He’s fun to argue with, but he doesn’t like being wrong. We argue a lot. He still calls me whelp even though I’m now the Harbinger.”

“Marriage, huh? Congratulations. It must be in the air,” he took a sip from the bottle of ale, hoping he’d be able to swallow the lump forming in his throat. He knew she had someone in her life. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she was getting married.

Aria nodded. She could tell by the change in his expression that her glowing report on Farkas wasn’t what he wanted to hear. She hadn’t wanted it to be this way, but she supposed it was better than the invitation to her impending nuptials with Farkas showing up on his doorstep. She wasn’t sure why she felt she owed him an explanation. She knew she shouldn’t have been so forward the last time she was here in Riften. Shouldn’t have led him on. Shouldn’t have ever kissed him. That was wrong of her. From what she knew of him, he seemed like such a good man. It made her wonder why he wasn’t already married to some lucky woman. “So why haven’t you ever settled down?” She swore she’d poke and prod at him for an answer until he gave her one.

He sighed, setting aside his knife and fork. “I could say I’ve never met anyone that held my interest long enough to want to settle down with, but that’s not entirely true.”

Aria formed her lips into a very provocative moue. “Sounds like that might be quite the story. Care to share?”

He chuckled, his laugh low and sexy. It hit her in all the right places, making her think of Farkas. He had a very similar laugh. “I could be persuaded, but not here.”

She wiggled her eyebrows. She understood his meaning. There were too many people around listening and it seemed like that tale was rather private. “I could suggest once we are done with dinner that we go for a stroll by the lake.”

He winked, knowing she’d understand. “I’d like that, though you might want to bring a shawl with you. The wind coming off the lake can get chilly, especially this time of year.”

Their conversation turned toward more neutral subjects. She spun tales of the jobs she’d completed as a Companion and he entertained her with anecdotes about events he’d seen while working the forge, or of pieces he’d crafted. He knew his had to be quite dull in comparison to hers, but she listened just as raptly as he had hers. 

As she finished a particularly humorous tale involving Torvar and a goat, she noted the redheaded thief she’d shouted into the wall had come into the inn. She eyed him suspiciously. He wasn’t wearing the blue finery she’d seen him in that day. No, he wore black leather armor. Guild armor, she surmised. She’d seen thieves beyond Riften’s walls wearing brown leather armor of the same make. She watched as he approached Keerava’s counter. She had the feeling he was up to no-good, and wouldn’t stand for it. 

His appearance wasn’t the only problem the Argonian couple faced. At the far table against the wall, Talen Jei hissed at something Hemming Black-Briar had just said. “Sorry Hemming, I've no interest in becoming your valet.”

She slid to the edge of her seat, ready to intervene if need be.

Hemming had the nerve to look unabashed as he replied, “What's the matter, I thought you people were used to indentured servitude.”

This statement made Talen Jei hiss even louder and really put Aria on edge, “Xhuth! Black-Briar or not, say that again and so help me you're going to need more than your mother to protect you from me.” 

“And what pray tell do you think you could do to him that I couldn’t protect him from?” Maven snapped, her dark eyes flashing. 

Aria pushed herself off her chair, striding over to stand beside Talen, “How about me, you tired old whore?” 

Maven’s eyes narrowed, “And just who are you?”

“Your worst nightmare,” Aria replied, letting the thu’um rumble through her voice. The whole room shook with her power as she spoke, “ ** _Dreh ni fus dii bah!_** ”

Whispers of ‘Dragonborn’ filled the room, as they all stared in awe at her. 

Maven had the audacity to roll her eyes, “Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with, girl? You don’t want to get on my bad side. If I so much as snap my fingers, the Dark Brotherhood will be at my beck and call. You do not want me as an enemy.”

Aria burst out laughing, “Oh please, I’m hardly afraid of the Brotherhood. In fact, Astrid and her little band of assassins are dead. Goes to prove you don’t want ME as an enemy. I wiped them out. All of them, painted the walls of their little sanctuary red with their blood. I’m the Dragonborn. I can kill with my voice alone. Care to test that? Ask your boy over there in the Guild armor. He knows. Quite the headache I gave ya, right, Brynjolf?”

Brynjolf glared at her. He remembered all too well. Her shout had cracked his skull and had left him bed-ridden for months. Aria glanced from him back to Maven then to Keerava, who stood wringing her hands. It occurred to her what was going on. Hemming had used his insult toward Talen Jei to cover up the shakedown going on at Keerava’s counter. She stalked away from Talen toward Keerava. She eyed the situation carefully. She noted the fierce look in the Argonian’s eyes even as she clutched a handful of septims. A shakedown for protection, perhaps? She wouldn’t allow it. 

“What did he want, Keerava?” Aria asked, rather forcefully as the power of the Voice still bled into her words. 

“I hardly think this involves you, Dragonborn,” Brynjolf interrupted. “Keerava accepted protection from the Guild long before you ever started coming around, stirring up trouble. We’ve done our part. She knows she has to pay up.”

“If I were you, I’d scurry back into the Ratway like the vermin you are because I’m here to tell you she doesn’t need your protection anymore. I’ll protect her, free of charge. And if you think I won’t hesitate to march down into the Ratway and exterminate all of you like I did the Brotherhood, then you just keep pressing your luck because your turn is coming.” Aria replied as she pulled a blade from inside the cuff of her thigh-high boot and laid it on the counter.

He cocked an eyebrow. He recognized the dagger. It was Astrid’s Blade of Woe. He knew he’d have to break the news to Delvin. “The Guild will have its due. Just remember that.” He sauntered out as casually as he had come in. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Keerava spoke up, “You may have just painted a bull’s-eye on all our backs. Not that I don’t appreciate it. Ever since the war started, I’ve been barely keeping this rathole together. I’m lucky the storm we had a while back only knocked a few shingles loose.” 

Aria leaned in close, “Sounds like you need an investor. We can discuss it later, if you think you’d be interested.”

Keerava nodded, not wanting to presume too much. The Dragonborn had been kind to them, giving what she had already. “Enjoy your dinner and we’ll talk soon.”

Aria turned away from the counter, heading back to her table. She noticed Maven and Hemming were gone as well. Good riddance to bad rubbish. She was surprised Balimund was still at the table. He lived in this city. The last thing she wanted was to involve him in her grudge against Maven and the Thieves Guild. She hoped neither he nor his business would suffer any retaliation. He had nothing to do with this. She took her seat, “I apologize for that display. I just loathe seeing good people ripped off.”

He rubbed his jaw while eyeing her speculatively, “I knew the Guild had been bleeding so-called protection money from several merchants for the past few years now, but they’ve never troubled me. First one who tries will end up fed to my forge.”

“I believe it,” she said then turned her attention back to her food. Conversation thereafter had become sparse. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was her fault. Or maybe she was over thinking things again. The food was growing cold; best finish it before it became unpalatable. 

Once finished, the two of them left the inn behind, heading passed the market to the gate between the Keep and the orphanage. Aria had accepted his proffered arm, looping hers through and allowing him to lead her toward the lake. They leisurely strolled along the rough cobblestone lane, silent at first. 

Soon though she coaxed him into an affable if not intimate conversation, picking up where he’d been hesitant to go earlier. “I know I don’t know you as well as I’d like to if things were different, but I can spot an amazing catch when I see one. And you would make a wonderful husband and mate for any woman so why is it you’ve remained uncaught?”

He slowed, leading her to a shady glen near the banks of Lake Honrich. Masser peaked out from the clouds to sparkle upon the surface like liquid diamonds while Secunda waned darkly. The air around them was calm and crisp, with a hint of winter’s bite. His lips quirked, his gaze falling upon the remains of Goldenglow Estate, while he gathered his thoughts, “There was someone once. Nigh on twenty years ago, I was still an apprentice smith. Younger than Asbjorn and horribly backwards. Ma had passed away when I was a young lad and Da never remarried. He threw himself into his work. He was determined to make my brother and me the best smiths in all of Skyrim, in all of Tamriel.” A fond look crossed his face and he chuckled. “My brother and I were only a year apart, him being younger. He ran off. He wasn’t much older than Kirsli, and we didn’t hear from him for years. He still lives down in Hammerfell, runs a smithy. I tell ya, it’s in the blood.”

“I’ve traveled all over Hammerfell. It’s a beautiful province. I really enjoyed Stros M’Kai.” Aria laughed. “Pirates can be fun, but very dangerous.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting one,” he chuckled. “Seems like you’ve been to many interesting places.”

“I have. Most of Tamriel, in fact. I’ve been to Morrowind, Valenwood, Elsweyr, and Hammerfell, spent several years in Cyrodiil, High Rock, and Black Marsh. I want to travel to Atmora and Akavir, eventually. Hopefully I’ll get to do so, but who knows what the future holds. I’m the Dragonborn. The fate of the world rests on my shoulders,” Aria sighed wearily, fully understanding the heavy burden she carried. It wasn’t time to get lost in that, though, “But enough about me. You are stalling.”

She didn’t miss a thing. He would rather listen to her adventures than have to talk about himself, but she wouldn’t let him off that easy. “I can’t imagine why my past interests you, but never let it be said I wouldn’t indulge a beautiful lady,” he chuckled then rolled his shoulders. He watched as she tried to suppress a shiver. “Come here.”

He wrapped his arms around her for warmth, chuckling into her ear, “Told you that you should have brought a shawl. The lake does get rather chilly.”

“I’ll know next time, but this is nice.”

“So roughly twenty years ago, a family moved into the farmstead near ours. By that point it was just Da and me. I watched him grow old before his time. The healer told me when he died that his heart gave out, but I think it had been broken since Ma passed. He was never the same person after that. This was years before I ever settled here in Riften. The Jorgensen family was their name and they had a daughter named Siv. She was the most stunning creature I’d ever laid eyes upon. She was eighteen summers in age and had a radiant smile and copper hair that fell to her waist in waves. Her eyes were green as clover. I turned to jelly whenever she came around, which she did often. If their cow blessed them with too much milk or their chickens produced too many eggs, she would bring them over. I spent more time mooning over her than I did paying attention to Da’s instructions at the forge,” Balimund laughed as the fond memories came flooding back. “After a while, I grew out of the awkwardness around her and looked forward to her company. I fell ass over teakettle in love and decided she was going to be my wife. Da liked her. She was a fine cook, that’s what won him over.”

“So what happened?”

He tightened his hold upon her and gingerly tickled her sides, causing her to buck in his arms. “I’m getting there,” he chastised mirthfully. He gazed off into the distance before glancing back toward Riften. His tone sobered, as did his expression. He tried to keep it light and pretend it was in the past, but the walk down memory lane stirred up things he thought long put to rest.

Balimund cleared his throat, his voice cracking as he began to speak again. “Bandits happened. They attacked several homesteads, robbing and killing for the sport of it. Siv and her whole family were dead by the time I made it their place. Siv along with her mother and younger sister had all been raped before they were killed. The nearest temple of Arkay was a couple days ride away, so I buried them behind the burned out remains of the house. I was so angry for a very long time after that. To the point where I hunted down the bandits seeking revenge. Granted I wasn’t and to this day, I wouldn’t ever consider myself a warrior. I can smith a fine sword, but as far as wielding one in combat, that’s better left to your Companions. They all died by my hand and I felt like I had avenged Siv and her family, but it wouldn’t bring them back. By the time I had finally let go of all the rage, my Da passed and I decided it was time to move on. So I ended up here in Riften, opened my shop, and adopted Asbjorn. Raising and apprenticing him gave me something to focus my mind on. I could pass on the skills that had been passed down through my family for generations. The years just crept up on me and here we are now. That’s all there is to the tale.”

Aria sniffled, blinking back the tears. “I can see why you took Kirsli in.”

“I took her in because it was the right thing to do. I didn’t want to see her mixed up with Brynjolf and his lot. She’s a good kid. She just needs positive direction.”

Aria clucked her tongue, “I think there’s more to it than that. She’s a young lady. You do her a great disservice if you’re treating her like a child. I don’t know her, but if she’s anything like I was at that age, she’s probably rebellious and headstrong. You have your hands full.” She pulled away and looked up into his eyes. “I wonder if she would be amenable to attending a finishing school. I could easily sponsor her to the one I attended in the Imperial City.”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “She’s talked about eventually going to the College of Winterhold so she may be interested. I think it would be good for her. She’s too smart to be wasting her life here in Riften. Perhaps we can talk to her about it.”

“She’ll need a formal education if she’s interested in furthering her studies in Magic. Plus the Imperial City is home to the Arcane University and the Mages Guild. I took courses at the University.” Aria suggested.

The two left the lakeside glen and continued down the lane. She told him about her schooling in Cyrodiil at Madame Aurelia’s School of Etiquette, and her time at the University. She spoke her travels through the various provinces she’d been to. And things that had happened since she had come to Skyrim. 

Before the two knew it, they were near Heartwood Mill and a pair of wolves shot out from the underbrush. She stepped in front of Balimund, calling upon the power of the Voice, “ ** _Kaan Drem Ov_**.”

The wolves skidded to a halt and whined at her feet. Balimund watched, mesmerized, as they rolled onto their backs and showed her their bellies. She had proved she was the Alpha. She kneeled beside them, gave them both a good rub and sent them on their way. “Those two won’t trouble us.”

He was in awe. “I’ve never seen anything quite like that.”

“Just be thankful we haven’t come across a dragon then,” she grinned. “I shouldn’t say that. I don’t want to jinx things. It’s been a nice night.”

“It has been. It’s not every day that a simple blacksmith gets to watch his date intimidate the Guild and then use the Voice to turn rabid wolves into puppy dogs.”

Aria lightly smacked his muscled bicep, “Don’t give me that ‘simple blacksmith’ bullshit. What was the first thing you ever said to me? I remember. It was ‘Come to see Balimund work miracles with steel, eh?’ You, my good man, are a master and I will personally kick the ass of anyone who says different.”

“Even the great Eorlund Gray-Mane, master of the Skyforge.” 

“Even Eorlund. Oh, which reminds me…? I have some housecarls I’d love to commission new armor for. Three, in fact. Would you be interested in forging the armor for me?”

He came to a halt, staring down at her, “Of course I would. If you can bring them in Riften, I can make the proper measurements. And I’ll need to know what kind of armor they want. I’m guessing it’s something beyond simple steel.” 

“Oh yes, ever work with dragon bone and dragon scale.” She grinned, “Of course, I will supply the raw materials. My housecarl in Markarth, Argis, wants dragon bone armor. My housecarl in Whiterun, Lydia, wants ebony. And my housecarl in Solitude, Jordis, wants dragon scale.”

“Wow, dragon parts. Can’t say I have ever worked with it, but I’m always up for a challenge. I’m honored you’d bring this to me, especially when you could easily just commission it from Eorlund.”

“He actually doesn’t do commissions for non-Companions so I didn’t even bother asking him. He’ll sell his wares, but custom work, no. Not even for me I bet.”

“That’s his loss and that’s why I aim to prove my work is the best in Skyrim, even without the Skyforge,” he beamed proudly. 

They crossed the bridge at Heartwood Mill and headed up the narrow dirt path which would lead them past Faldar’s Tooth. Besides the wolves, there had been no other problems during this after dinner stroll. He wasn’t looking forward to dealing with the miscreants who called the Tooth their home.

“We might want to be careful up here. Further up is Faldar’s Tooth. It’s full of bandits and thugs. They keep pit wolves. I caution Kirsli to stay away from there,” he said. He had left the blade he usually carried at home. Not that Aria needed his protection. She more than proved she could hold her own with her shouts alone. Plus she was the Harbinger. 

“It should be empty. I took care of them the other day on my way through. I don’t hear or see anything out here besides us. You’re safe with me.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of the situation. Usually it was the other way around. The man reassuring the helpless female that she was safe, but he knew well that most women in Skyrim often fought alongside their men. It was a point of pride. To be in the company of such a strong Nord woman was exhilarating. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

She squeezed his bicep, testing the strength of his arm, “You are very strong.”

His laughter continued, “Flatterer.”

“I’m trying.” She hastened them passed Faldar’s Tooth, away from the stench of death and decay. “I’m enjoying the company very much. It is so pleasant to have an intelligent conversation without ending up in an argument.”

“Then why marry him? It doesn’t seem like you two have a whole lot in common. You don’t strike me as the type of woman who would be satisfied with the dumb fighter type for very long.” He knew he was asking a very personal question, but couldn’t help it. Part of him just couldn’t help but wonder if she wasn’t settling for something less than what she really wanted.

She pressed close, “Farkas makes up for it in other ways.”

“Will that be enough when both of you have aged? I know it isn’t my place to question. You seem happy, but what happens in the future when these other ways no longer satisfy?” It was a legitimate question. One she may not have thought to ask. It was only because despite it all, he cared for her, even though she only ever been around him twice. 

Aria licked her lips. There was so much she couldn’t explain. So many secrets she couldn’t divulge. “Let’s just say it goes further than physical. We are bonded, mated. We knew from the moment we met. It took us a while to fully admit it. To ourselves. To each other. To the rest of the Circle. A bonding like ours is not encouraged amongst the Companions. It’s frowned upon. It’s one of the reasons Vilkas and I are at odds with each other. That’s all I can tell you.”

He nodded. “You are luckier than most. We should probably head back to town. I see the Llanith Farm up ahead.”

Silence fell between them as they made their back to the city gates. He then escorted her back to the inn. “You should come to dinner tomorrow night. Kirsli said something about a new recipe she wanted to try out.” He rested his hands upon her bare shoulders, leaned in, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. 

“I’d like that.” She smiled. 

“Let’s say 6-ish,” he said. 

“Sounds good and thank you for tonight. I had a wonderful time.” She planted a kiss of her own on his cheek and headed for the doors of the inn. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He watched as she headed in, enjoying the view despite knowing she’d never be his then walked the short distance to his home. He noticed right away the door was slightly ajar. He pulled it open, his heart pounding as hard as his hammer against the anvil and peered inside.

The main room was in complete disarray. Furniture had been overturned. The contents of the cupboard strewn across the floor. His bedroom was in shambles. The bedclothes shredded and the armoire emptied. The safe door stood wide open. He ran into the basement, searching for Kirsli but she was missing. 

Rage boiled within his blood, pumping through his veins like that beating of a thousand dragon wings. He ran out of the house, bellowing as loud as he could.

“KIRSLI!” 

Someone would pay for this and he had a good idea who to begin with.

~*~


	11. Paying Dues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Guild will have its due.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long Chapter!!!!! This one is EPIC!!! 
> 
> There are new characters make an appearance in this chapter and there are new tags as well. This story is growing! 
> 
> THANK YOU to a very close friend who helped me out with this one. And for all the hand holding and encouragement. I don't think this fic would have made it without you. 
> 
> And THANK YOU to everyone so far who have lurked, read, left kudos, reviews, and who are following this story. You are all AWESOME!!!!! 
> 
> And lastly, thank you for hanging in there with me. This is supposed to be a romance and there hasn't been a whole lot of that as of yet. I've never written a slow burn before. I'm more used to writing pwp's ... lol... but there is a bit of fluff in this chapter at the end. I promise the romance will come though and it will be worth the wait.

_Earlier that evening-_

Kirsli left Honorhall bubbling with joy. She had a new recipe and a plan. She’d spent a good bit of her visit at the orphanage behind closed doors with Constance having a serious girl talk. She sorely needed advice and Constance was the only woman she could turn to for it, without being judged. Constance had listened whole-heartedly, letting Kirsli express her feelings, and offered her honest opinion. Constance could see Kirsli’s feelings were true and not based off gratitude, but in her heart she also knew her chances of being taken seriously due to her young age were slim and that made Constance ache for her over the hand Kirsli had been dealt. To have fallen for a much older honorable man, she could see no end to the heartache. 

Kirsli headed for Marise’s food stand, purchasing the items she knew she didn’t have in the pantry to make the recipe. This would be wonderful and she knew Balimund would love it. She planned on dressing in something nice because she wanted to look pretty. Then during dinner she would broach the subject of the party. She knew he wouldn’t ask her so she would have to ask him. She just hoped her she’d be able to persuade him. She knew she had a rebuttal to almost any objection he could come up with. To top it off after he finished eating, she planned treating him with a very nice shoulder rub. She knew how very hard he worked. She knew how sore his long work day made him feel. She would help in any way she could. 

Her brow furrowed when she walked past the forge and noticed he wasn’t there. It was too early for him to quit for the day. Maybe he was taking a break, waiting for her to make dinner. If he was inside, hovering around, it might ruin her plans. She may have to shoo him back to the forge for a while. But it would be nice if she could get convince him to close shop early and change out of his work clothes. He looked so nice when she had seen him in just a regular tunic and trousers. 

Just as she reached for the door, it swung open and Balimund stepped out. She blinked, looking him up and down. He was rather dressed up. She bit her lower lip worriedly for a second as a red flag went off in her head. This wasn’t looking good. Only one way to find out, “Balimund, I have a new recipe I want to try out. Oh, are you going somewhere?”

He flashed a warm smile at her, “Yes, to the Bee and Barb for dinner. So how about you try out your recipe tomorrow night?”

Her heart sank. A lump formed in her throat and tears stung her eyelids. He was going without her. He didn’t even invite her. “Oh okay. I’ll just rummage around for something. You have a nice time.”

He ruffled her hair and walked away, whistling a tavern song. She watched him walk all the way over to the inn, admiring how he looked in the maroon outfit. Her eyes devoured him and she sighed. She wished he would get dressed up that way for her, but he hadn’t. It begged the question, though. Who was he having dinner with that he’d clean up that much for? 

Only once he was out of view did she enter the house. Kirsli set her basket down on the table, mulling it all over in her head. He had to be meeting someone, but whom? She had to know. She knew his habits well enough to know he just didn’t dress up in fine clothes and go to the inn for dinner for no reason. She knew it wouldn’t be Haelga. She dismissed the owner of the Bunkhouse immediately. Grelka had been known to make cow eyes at him once in a while. And the Dunmer food vendor Marise had eyed him favorably from time to time. She had even overheard her ask Dinya if Mara blessed couples of mixed races once before. Well, Marise had better not be getting any ideas. There was also Svana, Haelga’s niece. Svana was a very attractive young woman who worked in the Bunkhouse and it was rumored she had been having an affair with Sibbi Black-Briar before he ended up serving time in jail for the murder of his fiancée’s brother. 

_Stop it_ , Kirsli chastised herself. She’d drive herself crazy if she continued on this path. If anyone could hear her thoughts then they would surely think her obsessed with him. She wasn’t, not really. She’d just never felt like this about anyone else. 

After kicking herself one last time, forcing herself to snap out of it, she fixed herself a baked potato and a chicken breast then headed for the basement. She emptied the water from the tub and stowed it away. 

On her way back up to the main room, she spotted a large earthenware crock sitting on a table near the door. That hadn’t been there earlier. Her suspicions rose as she picked it up and peaked inside. It was still warm and the residue inside was from fire salts.

_No! No! No! No! No!_

Damn! She paced back and forth. Could he be with _her_? Damn! Damn! 

Damn it! 

That did it! She really had to know!

~*~

She steeled herself, working up the courage to go over to the Bee and Barb. She knew she being childish about this. Just do it, she scolded herself as she paced back and forth in front of the door. You’ll never know unless you go. She marched over to the cupboard, grabbing the bottle of brandy Balimund kept stored on the top shelf. She pulled the cork and drank a swig. It burned as it went down. But this was what she needed. Liquid courage. She needed all the help she could get. This was stupid, she chided. Pull up your big girl pants and go. She took another draw off the bottle, feeling it warm her insides. 

Putting the bottle back where she found it, she marched out of the house and made her way to the Bee and Barb. Though the brandy made her head feel fuzzy, she knew it wouldn’t be a good thing if she just marched right in there. She had to be sneaky. Yes, sneak a peek from the door. She didn’t want Balimund to know she was spying on him. 

She reached the door nearest to the market and cracked it open a bit. There seemed to be a commotion going on. The whole place shook, the door threatened to rattle off its hinges, nearly slipping from her grip. She poked her head in, quickly glancing around the room. Balimund was seated with his back to her, his arms crossed. All eyes were on the blonde woman standing near Maven Black-Briar. 

By the Divines, no! NO! Kirsli fought back a sob as her worst fears were realized. It was that woman. The one who had promised Balimund the fire salts but hadn’t delivered them… It hit her like a punch to the gut. She hadn’t delivered them until now. The woman who was known as the Dragonborn. She was back in Riften and had convinced Balimund to go to dinner with her. Damn her! Damn him! Damn them both!

Kirsli left the door ajar as she ran back home, tears streaming down her face. Once inside she shut the door behind her, leaning against it. She screamed, tasting salty tears. Damn him! How could he? He knew how she felt and it didn’t matter to him. Yet a woman he barely knew came around, making promises and had him wrapped around her little finger. She remembered back to that day. Kirsli had seen him kiss that woman before she had interrupted them. 

“He should be kissing me,” Kirsli screamed to the empty room and pushed away from the door. She grabbed the empty crock and threw it at the wall, a satisfied rush coursing through her as it shattered. She screamed again, screamed out all the rage she felt over that woman sniffing around where she wasn’t wanted as she marched forward and kicked over a chair. Then she grabbed his chair, tossing it aside. She upended the small end table, watching as the vase of flowers and the book she’d been reading fell to the floor. The vase broke, spilling water everywhere. 

Water soaked into her shoes, making her toes cold. This sobered her. “ _What have I done?_ ” Kirsli whispered as she glanced around at the wreckage she’d wrought. A sob escaped her. " _Mara, Dibella, Kynareth. Divines help me. Don’t make him hate me_!"

Kirsli ran for the door. She needed to think. She needed to talk to someone. Constance. She headed for Honorhall. She ran blindly, her feet knew the way. On the narrow bridge that crossed the canal, a hand reached out to stop her grabbing her by the elbow. 

“Where are you off to in such a hurry, lass?” 

Kirsli recognized that smooth voice. Pushing her hair out of her face, she turned red eyes and tear stained cheeks upon him. “Leave me alone!” She pulled away from him and reached for her dagger. 

“There’s no need for weapons, lass. I’m not going to hurt you.” He gently touched her face, wiping away the tears. “It’s a shame to see tears on such a lovely face and know who put them there.”

Kirsli took a few steps away. “You know nothing about me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, lass. You see, I can help you. That woman stands in your way of what you want, doesn’t she? Come with me, help me and I’ll see that your every dream comes true. What do you say?”

An audacious glare crossed her face followed by a smile. She knew his game and she wasn’t that stupid. She quickly slipped her dagger back into its sheath and offered her hand to him as if to shake his. Just as he reached for it, she brought her other hand up, slapping him hard across the face. “Go to hell, you fucking bastard!” 

She scrambled away from him, running as fast as her legs could carry her to Honorhall and yanked the door open. “Constance, Asbjorn, help me! The Guild is after me!” She bellowed as she slammed the door closed.

~*~

Maven marched into the Ragged Flagon, fire in her eyes and purpose in her step. Her watchdog, Maul obediently trotted along behind her. “Where’s Brynjolf?” She called out forcefully. 

Delvin looked up from his usual table as Vekel rushed behind the bar to get Maven a drink. He brought her a bottle of her Meadery’s finest, Black-Briar Private Reserve. She turned a baleful eye upon him, “Did I ask for that?” Then she swatted it out of his grasp. 

The barkeep hastened to clean up the mess she had made as all focused on the angry Maven. Tonilia and Vex glared while Delvin rubbed his jaw, considering his response very carefully. “He came in a few moments ago. He said he had to speak to Mercer about the deadbeats.”

“Get him out here! No, get BOTH of them out here! NOW!” Maven demanded.

Delvin nodded and headed for the Cistern. As soon as he was out of earshot, he breathed a sigh of relief. Someone had pissed off their biggest supporter and he wouldn’t want to be in that person’s shoes when Maven extracted her revenge. They had already been reeling from the heavy damage to the Meadery, the loss of Goldenglow, Black-Briar Manor and her Lodge. Maven had been putting tremendous pressure on them to produce results. The Breton thief knew she wouldn’t accept much more in the way of excuses and failure from them before she withdrew her support and pulled up stakes, moving to more profitable pastures. 

He crossed over into the Cistern, heading for Guild Master’s desk, where Brynjolf and Mercer stood arguing. 

“I don’t care what it takes, Brynjolf! Get it done!” Mercer growled as he hunkered over a ledger, his head cocked angrily at his second-in-command.

Brynjolf rubbed his face wearily, knowing just what... rather who they faced. He raised his arms, spreading them wide at shoulder level, “And just what do you suggest when it comes to that woman? I’d relish putting her head on a pike, but I’d rather not spend another couple months bed-ridden.”

“Did I stutter? Do I have to do everything for you? Think of something. Even someone like her has a weakness. Target her friends, her family.”

Brynjolf gave a mirthless laugh, “Brilliant, Mercer. Go after the Companions. We tried that, remember? Arnbjorn gave Delvin information we could pass onto the Silver Hand, but the Companions wiped them out and she’s their Harbinger now. She claimed she wiped out the Brotherhood. She showed me Astrid’s Blade of Woe.”

A loud gasp came from behind them. Two pairs of eyes zeroed in on the source. “What do you want, Delvin? Shouldn’t you be getting drunk and pining for Vex? Or have you decided to make yourself useful?” Mercer growled belligerently. 

Delvin frowned, biting his tongue. It wouldn’t do him any good to get on Mercer’s bad side. “Maven’s here. She’s asking for you.”

Mercer turned his steely eyes to his second, “Take care of Maven.” He didn’t want nor need to deal with her shit right now. 

Delvin clucked his tongue, “Sorry, boss. She demanded both of you.” Then he turned, walking away quickly. He didn’t want to be the recipient of Mercer’s wrath. Everyone knew Mercer hadn’t wanted to deal with Maven recently. He had delegated their dealings with her to Brynjolf since his second had recovered. 

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Brynjolf followed Mercer into the Ragged Flagon where Maven stood with Maul and Dirge. Maven turned her scathing gaze upon the Guild Master. “It’s about time you got here. I have better things to do with my time than waste it in this garbage heap.”

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Maven?” Mercer sneered with a tone dripping with insolence. 

The Black-Briar matriarch glared at him then turned her gaze upon Brynjolf. “What are you going to do about that woman? Are we not in control of Riften? Are you going to let an outsider waltz in here and make threats? I, for one, will not stand for it. I want to know if her claims are true. Astrid hasn’t responded to my last missive. Send someone to Falkreath.”

Brynjolf crossed his arms, “Mercer and I were just discussing this, Maven. I’ll send Thrynn to their sanctuary. In the meantime, she and the Companions may not be so untouchable. Thanks to Arnbjorn, we know their secrets. We could drop an anonymous missive to the Vigilants of Stendarr. Or didn’t you say there’s been activity in Dayspring Canyon? Fort Dawnguard? We can also target the people she cares about. I found out she owns a house in Whiterun, Markarth and Solitude. According to some friends of the guild, she’s been made Thane of the Jarl in each of those cities. She’ll have a housecarl. Plus did you notice who she was dining with this evening?”

“The blacksmith,” A satisfied smirk crossed Maven’s face. She turned to Maul. “I want you and your brother to pay him a visit. Teach him what it means to hold out on the Guild. If the stubborn oaf refuses, put the thumbscrews on him and hit him... hard.”

Maul grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Happily, and I’ll be teaching my little ragamuffin a lesson.”

“Get the message across that the Guild will always get its due,” Brynjolf replied. “Just don’t kill anyone. Dumping bodies and paying off guards is expensive, even with them in Maven’s pocket.”

“He’ll pay up, if he knows what’s good for him,” Dirge punched a cupped hand. 

Maul nodded, “I’ve been looking forward to this. I’ll teach him to not touch what isn’t his.”

Maven scoffed, “Stop thinking with what’s between your legs, stupid. Now begone!”

She watched as Maul and Dirge exited the Flagon before turning back to Mercer and Brynjolf. “There’s one more thing. I want the money collected from Keerava. Didn’t Talen-Jei tell you about the family she has in Morrowind. Threaten them. Or better yet, tell her if she doesn’t pay we’ll make her a widow before she even gets married. Send Dirge when he gets back from the blacksmith’s place. I imagine Maul will be busy with that wretched little orphan.”

Brynjolf’s lips quirked, his green eyes flashing, “I doubt it. I caught her on my way back down here earlier. I had hoped to convince her to come with me, but she ran off to Honorhall. She’s not happy with the Dragonborn being here either.”

“Has your silver tongue turned to rust? If you can’t handle an urchin, what use are you to me?” Maven snapped haughtily. “This had better produce results. Failure is no longer an option! I will no longer support a beggar’s guild.”

Then she stormed out.

~*~

The market was quiet, not a sole in sight as Maul and Dirge crossed it. It made Maul wonder whether or not Maven had something to do with it. When they arrived at The Scorched Hammer, Maul yanked the door open, laughing loudly at the folly of it not being locked. _What fool didn’t lock their door in Riften!_

He stormed in, noticing the wreckage spread out before him. Dirge stepped in behind him, frowning. “Did someone beat us to the punch?”

Maul sneered, “Check downstairs. If you find the girl, let me know.” He watched as Dirge disappeared before he started rifling through the cupboard, tossing fresh food to the floor, emptying it completely. He pocketed the bottle of brandy. The iron-pounder had good taste in spirits. 

Dirge came back upstairs, “I found a bed with women’s clothes on it. No sign of your little piece of ass. There was also strong box with a shitty lock a novice could pick. It had some coin and nice gems in it. I’ll take it to Brynjolf.”

“Take that room over there and I’ll check this one over here,” Maul growled at his brother, wondering where Kirsli was. She had to be here somewhere. When he found her… the things he’d do to her. That fucking iron-pounder wouldn’t want her once Maul was through with her. No one would. She wouldn’t even be fit the join the whores in the Ratway. 

Dirge poked his head into the dark room, Asbjorn’s old room. It hadn’t seen much use since Asbjorn spent most of his time at Honorhall. Kirsli had plans to move into it, but decided it would be best to wait until after Asbjorn and Constance got married. She didn’t want to presume too much too soon. 

The bed was neatly made and the dresser devoid of its contents except for some dust and lint. “This one’s empty.” Dirge called out. “I bet this one belonged to that boy of his. The one who shacked up with that ugly bitch at the orphanage.”

Maul frowned as he entered Balimund’s room. The grey tunic and heavy apron lay upon the double bed along with smallclothes and other articles of clothing. His eyes narrowed. He rummaged through them, searching for anything that belonged to his little ragamuffin. He turned to the tall armoire that stood to the left to the bed and yanked open its doors. Within were various tunics, but what drew his eye was a very nice green and gold party dress. He hissed in rage, yanking it out. Holding it up, he looked it over. It seemed to be her size. That little bitch…spreading her legs for this fucking old man. He’d teach them both a lesson they’d never forget. He’d bide his time. Eventually he’d get his hands on her again and when he did… she was in for a world of pain.

The dress disintegrated in his hands as he tore it to pieces and tossed it to the floor. Then he tore everything out of the armoire. He drew his knife, stabbing at the bedding, ripping it shreds. Then he grabbed the lone chair and smashed it against the wall, throwing the pieces to the floor. The chamber pot came next, smashed and trampled. 

He tore everything out of the dresser, stealing a very nice greatsword that rested atop the armoire. Then he set his sights on the safe on the floor beside the dresser. It took him a while, but eventually he was able to get it open and cleaned everything out it. This would please Brynjolf immensely. The coin in here would go a long way to satisfy the Guild. 

Maul left the room behind and pinned a look on Dirge, “The bitch isn’t here, but I will send a message to them both. Let’s finish wrecking this place then let’s get out of here. Leave nothing untouched.”

Dirge grinned. He was only too happy to oblige.

The two man wrecking crew headed for the basement, smashing everything. Kirsli’s bed was ruined just as Balimund’s had been. Her clothes torn to shreds. The tanning rack and grindstone destroyed. 

Lastly a note was left in the business ledger. “The Guild will have its due.”

Only then did Maul and Dirge exit the house, leaving the door open. Maul didn’t care who knew the place had been hit. Let it be a lesson to anyone who thought they were above notice of the Guild. 

No one was untouchable. 

~*~

Constance rushed to intercept a frantic Kirsli just as she rushed forward, throwing her arms around and burying her face in the crook of the older woman’s neck. She sobbed uncontrollably, pouring out all her heartache. Constance held her tightly, stroking her hair and back, comforting her. She knew what Kirsli was going through and wished she could ease her pain. She had been there once upon a time. To be in love with someone and not have that love reciprocated. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Only she hadn’t been as young as Kirsli. 

She let Kirsli cry until the tears dried up then wiped them away. Then she washed Kirsli’s face and directed her toward her private bedchamber where they could talk about it. This time Asbjorn followed. He was just as concerned about her and wanted to help. 

Constance handed Kirsli a handkerchief and sat her down, her eyes full of sympathy, “Tell me what happened, sweetie. What has you so upset and why is the Guild after you?”

“Brynjolf tried to nab me,” she muttered, sniffling pathetically while staring down at her feet. 

“Brynjolf? Why? Where was Balimund?” Asbjorn asked.

Kirsli snapped her head up, glaring at him. The instant change in her at the mention of his adoptive father’s name told him something wasn’t right and he knew then Kirsli had to be up to her shenanigans again. “Kirsli, what happened? And just what ‘advice’ did you give her earlier?” 

Kirsli tried to look innocent, but knew she had failed. “It’s not as bad as you think. I had a new recipe. I was going to fix a special dinner and … Well I was going to convince Balimund to be my date for Keerava and Talen-Jei’s engagement party. But then she showed up and had to ruin things.” Kirsli let out a ‘pffft’ noise and crossed her arms defensively. 

Asbjorn’s brow furrowed, “She who?”

“That damned Dragonborn bitch.” Kirsli hissed, angry tears gathering once more. “She ruined my plans. She brought fire salts and he went to the Bee and Barb to have dinner with her. I got mad, but it’s stupid that I’m mad so I came here but first I ran into Brynjolf who said if I helped them, he’d help me get what I wanted. I told him to leave me alone and I ran here.”

A sorrowful look crossed Constance’s face and she wrapped her arms around Kirsli once more. “I am sorry that it didn’t work out like you planned, sweetie. You knew this was a possibility, though.”

Kirsli shook her head, “I could have countered any argument, but that woman showing back up… I wasn’t prepared for that.”

Asbjorn looked her straight in the eye. “Kirsli, you know I care about you more than just about anything or anyone, but don’t you think you’re setting yourself up for unnecessary heartache? I don’t see this romance you envision ever happening between you and Balimund. Maybe you should set your sights on someone closer to your own age.”

Constance smacked his arm as hard as she could, “Insensitive much? Why not kick her a little harder while she’s down?”

Asbjorn rubbed the place she hit gingerly. It stung, but he knew he deserved when he saw the look on Kirsli’s face, saw the tears welling up in her eyes again. “I know it hurts to hear me of all people say that, Kirs, but it’s only because I care for you and don’t want to see you waste your life on this. The old man has said it’s never going to happen. He’s old enough to be your father. Hell, he raised me.” 

More tears spilled down her cheeks. Why was he being so cruel? He should be supportive. “He’s not my father. Gods damn it! Stop treating me like a child! I’m not a fucking child! I lived on my own for months! I got by on my own for months! I did what I had to do to survive for fucking months when nobody gave me a damn thing. I worked my ass off for it. I think that makes me an adult, regardless of my age.” 

“And I know that, Kirsli. You are certainly more mature than most of the so-called adults here in town. I just think you’ve set yourself up for a never-ending heartache. Truth be told, and hopefully I won’t get smacked again, if I hadn’t been so head over heels in love with Constance when you moved into the Scorched Hammer, I may have tried to court you. I’m only 9 summers older than you. So not as big of an age gap and you are a beautiful young woman.” He clenched his muscles, preparing for the strike from Constance he knew would be coming. 

“It’s a good thing you put the head over heels disclaimer on that comment. You would’ve gotten slapped.” Constance chuckled. She knew Asbjorn was trying to make Kirsli feel better; maybe even take her mind off this.

“I shouldn’t say this. Shouldn’t offer any false hope, especially after what I said earlier. It was wrong of me to have said that and I apologize for it. I’ve noticed there are times when Balimund thinks no one’s watching that I’ve have caught him watching you, staring at you with this mesmerized look, like no one else in the world exists but you. We men do that, so you can’t say a thing. And if you do, I will explicitly deny it. I think if you were a few summers older, the age difference wouldn’t be a problem,” Asbjorn offered, knowing he’d most likely be scolded for it. 

And he was. Constance gave him that look. Kirsli was hurting bad enough. There was no need for false hope. She wasn’t a few years older. She was still sixteen summers, though she would say three months shy of seventeen. Age was just a number. She had been through more in her young life than most experienced in the entire lives. It was what made her so mature. 

“Can I sleep here tonight?” Kirsli turned pleading eyes upon Constance. “I need time to think. And maybe it’d be best if Balimund didn’t know I was angry and jealous because of her.”

Constance hugged her, “Of course you can. I will always be here for you, Kirsli. You can use my old room.”

“Thank you, both of you. I appreciate you both.” Kirsli hugged them tightly before heading toward the room Constance used to sleep in when Grelod was the headmistress here. She removed her shoes and curled up in the bed, pulling the warm furs over her. 

She didn’t know how she’d explain the knocked over chairs in the main room. Would he believe it if she claimed the guild was after her? No, she knew it would be wrong to lie to him. Not after she’d thrown a tantrum like a brat. She didn’t think she’d hurt anything. The chairs and table would need to be picked up. She’d have to clean up the broken vase. She would tell the truth and face the consequences. If he got mad at her, she’d accept it. If he tossed her out, she knew Constance would take her in. She knew Constance needed a helper besides Asbjorn, who still worked at the Scorched Hammer. She could work here. She already helped out. But she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. No, it wouldn’t come to that.

She closed her eyes, praying to Mara that her fondest wish would come true.

~*~

“KIRSLI!” Balimund bellowed as loudly as he could as he stormed out of the ravaged interior of his home and business. There was no doubt in his mind who was responsible for this. It was a Guild hit. 

Rage coursed through him as he ran to the Bee and Barb, desperately hoping someone had seen Kirsli. It worried him that she wasn’t in the house and what might have been done to her. Who might have put their hands on her? His jaw clenched tighter and he jerked the door open. He stormed in, his face an angry visage. 

The wreckage before him was bad, but didn’t come close to what had been done to his own place. At least they hadn’t touched his forge, though. His gaze fell upon Keerava, Talen-Jei and Aria. “Have either of you seen Kirsli?” He demanded, stalking toward them. As he neared them, he noticed the slab of meat Talen held over his eye, suggesting whoever did this had roughed the Argonian up. 

“This is all my fault.” Aria shook her head regretfully. “I shouldn’t have said a thing. I should’ve kept my nose out of it.”

Talen looked up at her exasperatedly, “Someone should stand up to those thieving bastards. Don’t you dare apologize!” 

Keerava placed her hands on her hips, “What’s wrong, Balimund?”

He stopped for a moment, tried to gather his emotions before speaking and leveled very angry eyes upon the three people before him. “The Guild hit my place, too, and Kirsli is missing. Have either of you seen her?”

“No, she hasn’t been in here,” Keerava replied.

Balimund growled menacingly, “Damn it! Who did this?”

Talen removed the beef steak from his face, revealing a fully swollen eye. “Maven’s thugs, Maul and his brother, Dirge,” he replied. 

“Maul?! Talos help that bastard if he’s touched one hair on Kirsli’s head. He’ll beg for death long before I grant it to him.” He turned to leave, storming out as angrily as he had come in.

Aria followed, grabbing hold of his arm. “Just what do you do plan on doing?” she asked. “You can’t just charge off half-cocked after him. You have to think first. Are you going take on the entire Guild… alone? You could at least let me help.”

He glared at her, “You’ve helped enough.”

Aria let a bitter laugh slip from her lips, “Oh, that’s rich. Earlier you damn near applauded me for helping people.”

“Kirsli wasn’t missing earlier. If you haven’t noticed, I’m more than a little fucking pissed. When I know she’s safe, I may think differently.”

Aria pursed her lips. He was acting very peculiar. So far everything she’d seen suggested he treated the young woman like a daughter, but his current behavior made her think there was more to it, especially since he’d told her about his past. The physical similarities between the two females were uncanny. Both redheaded, green eyed (though Kirsli had one blue eye) and very pretty. It was more than just a coincidence. “That’s your prerogative. I can’t stop you, but let me go with you.”

He stared her down, knowing she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Help me find Kirsli, then we can deal with the Guild.”

“And if the Guild… this Maul… has her?”

“I kill the bastard.” Balimund fumed. 

Aria shook her head, “And then what? You know where that leads. You know that won’t solve anything. It’ll only make it worse.”

He pushed her against the rough hewn wall of the inn, “Just who do you think you are? What do you expect me to do? Bend over, spread my cheeks and take it… from the likes of them? I’ve lived here for many years and never have I been troubled by the guild. You come along, stirring up trouble and they ransack my house and rob me blind and you want to tell me where that leads. Oh, I know. I know better than you ever will, sweetheart.” 

He pulled away, his shoulders squared, his back stiff as he marched over to his forge. He knelt before the workbench and pulled a key from his pocket, using it in the lock box. From within he pulled the sword he usually carried, strapping on the belt. 

Aria joined him. She wanted to see the mess that had been made of his house. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She entered the building, gasping at the sheer destruction. This was worse than the Bee and Barb. Everything was smashed, broken, or useless. No wonder he was so angry. And she knew she was to blame. She would make this up to him, but Kirsli came first.

She exited the house, finding Balimund leaning against the stone wall that surrounded the market. Besides his sword, he had an ebony war axe on his belt as well. He held in his hands a length of chain and a sturdy lock. He threaded the chain through the handles of the door then affixed the lock, securing it tight until he could deal with it later. For tonight he’d stay at the Bee and Barb, if they had any rooms available. If not, he’d open the house back up and see what he could salvage.

“If that cretin didn’t drag her off, where would she go?” Aria asked, trying to get an idea of Kirsli’s habits.

“The only place I can think of would be Honorhall. Constance and Asbjorn are there.” Balimund said as they made their way through the marketplace.

“Would you like to check there first or are you hell bent on charging into the Ratway?” Aria asked. “Where would that cretin take her to if he had her?”

“Maul works for Maven, but as you can see, Maven’s new manor house is still under construction. The Black-Briar family is a guest of Jarl Laila at the keep, but I doubt that includes Maul so I’d either guess the Meadery or the Ratway. I’d say he’d take her into the Ratway. Lots of places to hide down there.” Balimund replied. He hoped she’d gotten away. He hoped she was at Honorhall. He couldn’t…couldn’t bear the thought of Maul hurting her again. “Let’s check Honorhall first. It’s right over here. The stairs leading down into the canal and into the Ratway are beside it.”

~*~

At the Orphanage he knocked on the door loudly several times. He figured Constance and Asbjorn had already retired for the night, but hoped his knocking would wake them. After a while, the door cracked, “Can’t it wait until morning. The orphanage is closed.” 

“Asbjorn,” Balimund spoke up, “Have you seen Kirsli? Maul and his fucking brother ransacked the shop and she’s missing.”

Asbjorn opened the door wider, “What?! No, Kirsli’s here. She has been all evening. Come on in… Maul did what now?” 

Balimund entered the orphanage, taking a seat on one of the benches in the foyer, “Just what I said. Maul and his brother ransacked the shop. Tore the house and everything in it to shreds, cleaned out the safe and I don’t even know what else… I haven’t made a thorough check. I was far too pissed and far too worried he’d gotten his hands on Kirsli.” He ran a hand over his face. Relief flooded him. It was one less thing on his mind. 

“She’s sleeping. She mentioned you had gone to the Bee and Barb for dinner, and didn’t want to be in the house by herself. She and Constance spent the evening chit-chatting or whatever women do,” Asbjorn rolled his eyes nonchalantly. 

“For the love of Talos, I am glad she wasn’t there. They hit the Bee and Barb, too. They beat up poor Talen and wrecked it too.”

“Why?”

“Extracting ‘protection money’ or so they said. Brynjolf came in while Aria and I were dining. That’s how all this nonsense began. Aria stopped that shakedown and apparently the guild didn’t take too kindly to it, so they struck back. The Guild will have its due, they said,” the blacksmith scoffed. “I can see Maven’s hand in this. Aria threatened her too.”

Asbjorn looked around, “I thought she came in with you.”

Balimund glanced at the door, swearing under his breath. “She may be the Dragonborn, but her vendetta against the Guild just may destroy the whole town. There’s a whole lot of crazy in the woman, and damn if I’m not a fool for realizing it too late.”

“You know what Kirsli would say, don’t you?” Asbjorn reminded Balimund, his eyes alight with mirth. 

Balimund returned a scowl, “Of course I do. That girl is too smart for her own damn good.”

“Uh-huh, so do you need a bed for the night? We can put you up here.” Asbjorn offered. 

“No, I’ll be fine, boy. Don’t fuss over me. I would like to check in on Kirsli, though. Where’s she sleeping?”

Asbjorn showed him to the room, “Let me know if you want my help cleaning up the shop. You know I’ll help.”

Balimund nodded before opening the door. A candle flickered dimly on the dresser. It silhouetted her sleeping form. He knelt beside the bed, breathing out another sigh of relief now that he’d laid eyes upon her. He leaned over the fur covered straw mattress, resting his forehead against it, and reached out to caress her arm, gingerly running his fingertips down to her hand. He knew he shouldn’t. Shouldn’t touch her. It was wrong. So damn wrong. 

She rolled from her side and sat up, a startled gasp on her lips. Quickly he reassured her it was alright, that he needed to know she was alright. A puzzled look crossed her sleepy features. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, caressing her cheek softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Are you headed home? I’ll come with you.”

He shook his head. “The Guild hit the house earlier. It’s a mess. I’m thankful you weren’t there. I’m staying at the Bee and Barb tonight. You should stay here. It’ll be safer.”

“No, I want to go with you. Please,” she begged, her eyes pleading. 

He sighed, knowing she’d follow him if he told her no. That could lead to more trouble. She could be caught by Maul or his brother or any of the Guild members and he didn’t want that. He knew he should just be firm with her, ordering her to stay, but he gave in any way. He nodded, “Come on, Kirs.”

She flashed that satisfied grin she always had when she got her way, and scurried out of bed. She slipped her shoes on and followed him out, leaving Honorhall behind. 

The city was quiet and the market empty. He escorted her to the inn. The common room was quiet inside. Talen-Jei had piled the broken remains of chairs together and had righted the knocked over tables. “Talen, do you have a couple rooms available for the night?” Balimund asked. 

The Argonian looked up, shaking his head. “I have one left, Balimund. It has a double bed. You’ll have to share.”

He sighed deeply. He was afraid of this, but he knew he’d never convince Kirsli to go back to the orphanage. “I’ll take it.” Then he handed Talen enough septims to cover the room.

“Keep your money, Balimund. This one’s on the house.” Talen handed it back. “I insist. I’m glad you found Kirsli.”

The blacksmith frowned, but knew he wouldn’t be able to talk Talen out of this so he said nothing.

Kirsli sleepily smiled and yawned, “I wasn’t missing. I was at Honorhall with Constance.”

Talen nodded, “Let me show you to your room.” He led them upstairs to the remaining vacant room. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Balimund shook his head, “We’ll be fine, Talen.”

Talen exited the room, leaving them alone. Kirsli yawned again and headed for the bed. She was usually fast asleep by this time of night. She removed her shoes, choosing the side farthest from the door. She slipped under the covers and made herself comfortable. Though she was very tired, butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought that she’d be sharing the bed with Balimund. She knew nothing would come of it, but it fed her hope that someday she’d have want she wanted. After all, he had been very worried about her. That had to count for something. It satisfied her ego. 

She watched as he removed his shoes, set the sword and war axe on the bedside table and sat on the opposite side of the bed. He sighed wearily, rolling his shoulders. “Tired,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” he answered, his head hung. “It’s been one of those days, my girl. Tomorrow ain’t gonna be much better.”

She slipped out from beneath the furs, crawled across the bed and knelt behind him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, massaging them gently. His muscles were tight. He groaned out loud. Her ministrations felt very good, too good. He knew he should tell her to stop, that it wasn’t right, but he couldn’t. If it made him a bad person, so be it. “We’ll get through it. We’ll clean up the mess and go from there.”

Her hands spread out, working deeper while her thumbs pressed down between his shoulder blades. He moaned, letting her work. “You’re optimistic about it, but you didn’t see the house.”

She stopped massaging, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning in close. “Maybe not, but we can’t let them think they’ve beaten us. Or they’ll come back and think they can do it again. I know you won’t stand for that. Besides it just shows how insecure they are.”

Balimund let a small chuckle slip from his lips. So many emotions assailed him. Pride in her. She was so smart, had wisdom far beyond her young years. There was a healthy amount of desire to boot, but that he had to keep in check. It wouldn’t be easy with an erection tenting his smallclothes.

His stroll down memory lane hadn’t helped matters either. He hadn’t thought of Siv in a long time, but it stirred up things in him he’d long thought forgotten and the irony of it all wasn’t lost on him. “You’re too smart your own good, ya know that, right?” He had to tease her, add some levity to the chaos of the night.

Kirsli planted a kiss on his cheek before she scooted away. She knew if she didn’t she’d make a fool of herself. He’d let her massage his shoulders and that had pleased her immensely. She slipped under the furs, rolling to her side, making herself comfortable. 

Balimund watched her for a while. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep. By Mara’s grace, she was so beautiful. He knew it had been a mistake to wake her. She should have stayed over at Honorhall tonight. He wouldn’t be sharing a bed with her, even though he knew this would most likely be the only time that would ever happen. Not that he’d allow himself to touch her. He knew it would be best if she could be convinced to go to a school somewhere. She needed to get out of Riften. If she didn’t, he knew exactly what would happen, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out for very much longer. 

He didn’t know how or when it had happened, but it had. He had fallen for Kirsli. 

And he knew it would be a disaster if he ever admitted it or acted on it.


	12. Starting Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dragonborn strikes back!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one seemed like it took forever to write. RL just kept getting in the way. 
> 
> I use a mod that gives werewolves different color fur. Like Aria's is blonde. Aela's is red. Farkas is still black. Kinda makes them unique. It probably isn't lore friendly... But I like it that. I took some liberties with Aria's transformation as well, for expedience sake. It just better suited what I was going for. 
> 
> I posted some screenshots of an older [Kirsli](http://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/images/597430/?) to Skyrim Nexus. This is what she'll look like in later chapters of this story.

Aria left Honorhall behind. She wasn’t interested in intruding on a touching family reunion. She figured Kirsli wouldn’t take too kindly to her being there. It was best she left. Besides she had plans of her own. She jogged down the stairs leading to the canal, not an easy feat while wearing 3-inch heels. She headed for the Ratway. She knew she’d find her prey within. 

It was rather easy to find the Ragged Flagon. No one stood in her way. The petty lowlifes that often could be found within these moldering tunnels had been wiped out by the flood a few months earlier. The decrepit establishment was dimly lit. She stopped to listen for a few moments. Things were quiet. Light conversation was being had between a male and a female. She sensed a total six people by the beating of their hearts. 

Aria strode in as if she owned the place. Her face was a hard mask, her expression unreadable, but cold fury glittered in her silver eyes. She came to a halt in the middle of the Flagon, turning her gaze to the barkeeper. “Where’s that ginger bastard? Get him out here now!”

“Not many would come in here makin’ threats. Best ya scurry off while you're able. The Ratway, well, it has a habit of swallowin' up the uninvited.” The bald man in black guild armor spoke up from a nearby table.

Aria turned to face him, “I wasn’t talking to you, pops!” She caught a whiff of a strong scent behind her, could sense a heart’s rapid beating. She whirled around, spotting Dirge’s attempt to knife her from behind. “ ** _YOL TOOR SHUL!_** ”

Her thu’um caused the Flagon to shake as fire burst from her mouth, setting the thief ablaze. Dirge screamed as flames hotter than the sun consumed him. Everyone within the Flagon drew a weapon, advancing on her, while Maul ran over to his brother’s burnt corpse. 

“Get Brynjolf out here and I won’t use any more shouts,” Aria demanded. “I am not someone to be fucked with.”

“We don’t take kindly to threats, don’t matter who you are.” The Redguard woman wearing a tan sleeveless version of the guild armor retorted as she left her seat overlooking the water and came close to Aria. 

“Ton, I’d step back if I were you,” the barkeeper cautioned.

“Shut it, Vekel! This bitch doesn’t scare me!” The Redguard snapped.

Aria glared at her, staring her down. “You should be afraid. You all should be **very afraid**. I’m your worst nightmare. **_FUS – RO – DAH!_** ”

“Tonilia!” Vekel screamed as she went flying through the air, ragdolling helplessly until she impacted into the far wall hard, slumping to a heap on the stone floor. She didn’t move thereafter. The barkeeper raced to her, kneeling at her side. He touched her, noted the awkward angle of her neck. “YOU KILLED HER!” 

Accusing eyes turned to Aria.

Vekel screamed again. “Tonilia’s dead!”

“This is my final warning. If that ginger bastard isn’t out here in five seconds, I kill everyone!” The thu’um rumbled through Aria’s voice, causing the whole place to shake. Plates and cups rattled upon the tables. Bottles fell off of shelves, breaking as they hit the floor. Candles flickered, making the joint that much darker. 

Brynjolf stepped out of the darkness, coming from the secret passage leading to the Cistern.   
“That’s enough, lass,” he spoke up. 

“I’m not your lass, you bastard.” Aria strode toward him, fury in her every step. “Just who the **FUCK** do you think you are?!”

Brynjolf stared her down, unflinching as she got right up in his face. “You come down here uninvited, killing people, and you have the gall to ask me who I think I am?!”

“I think you and I need to have a little chat. A private chat, don’t you?” She asked through gritted teeth. “Just the two of us.”

He nodded his head the way he came, “After you.” He followed close behind her, shutting the secret entrance behind him. He didn’t want anyone to follow them. He didn’t want any more of his people hurt. “There’s a room to your right. We can talk in there.”

Aria’s heels clip-clopped upon the stone floor of the hallway. She walked slowly, her every sense on alert for duplicity. Behind her, Brynjolf followed at a slow pace. He carefully watched, evaluated her every move. She was a sight for the eyes, but all he could feel for her was anger. Pure raw anger. Two people were dead, one he had cared for greatly. 

Once inside the room, he turned rage filled green eyes upon her. “I don’t care to hear what it is you have to say, but whatever it is, say it and get out.”

“Then I’ll make this short and sweet. This is my final warning. Don’t fuck with me or the people I care about. The hit on Balimund’s place was totally uncalled for and I will not stand for it! Back off or I wipe you all out just like I did the Brotherhood. I think I’ve already proved I don’t make idle threats.” Aria grabbed him, pushed him against the wall roughly and kneed him in the groin hard. 

Brynjolf groaned in pain as her knee connected with the soft globes of his balls. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore his throbbing balls. “You started this, lass. You could have said you weren’t interested. You could have walked away. But did you? No. You used one of your shouts against me.” He raised his arms to push her away from him. “And earlier you stuck your nose in Guild business. We simply won’t let that go. Hence, the blacksmith paid for it.”

Aria grabbed hold of his arms, throwing him to the floor. He landed with an ‘oomph.’ He groaned again, kipping up to his feet into a defensive stance. She charged him, ramming her elbow into his throat while her other fist pummeled his gut as hard as she could. He grunted from her first hit; felt the wind knocked out of him from her second. Then she pounced upon him, riding him down to the floor. Her knee found his groin a second time before she pinned him. “I aim to finish it if you fuckers don’t listen! I’m done playing around,” she growled. 

Next thing Brynjolf knew he was nose to snout with a snarling blonde werewolf and that he had lost all control over his bladder. She nipped at his throat, growling low in her throat. Brynjolf thrashed beneath her, going for his dagger. Once he had it in his palm, he brought it up, knifing her in the side. She howled as it bit into her flesh, allowing her canines to sink into his shoulder. He cried out in pain, drawing the dagger back to stab her again. 

Aria howled, slapping the dagger from his hand. She reared up, blood dripping from her jowls, bloodlust pounding through her veins, and grabbed him by the throat. Her long claws bit into the tender flesh of his neck. He yelped in pain as she slammed him back against the wall. “Enough!” She bellowed, sending wolf spittle flying in all directions, including his face. “I didn’t come here to kill you, but so help me Talos, I will. I’ll rip your fucking heart out and show it to you before you die.”

Brynjolf was breathing heavily. His whole body ached. He was bleeding from a bite wound on his shoulder. And he really didn’t relish her ripping his heart out. He held his hands up in submission. 

Aria backed away, transforming back to a human. “Can we come to an accord?”

He coughed and wheezed, spitting out blood. “What kind of an accord, lass? What are the terms? The Guild won’t stop doing what we do.”

“They’re simple. Jorrvaskr is off limits. I doubt you want to deal with pissed off werewolves, especially me. And don’t even think of sending your little thieves into any of my houses. My housecarls are like me. They don’t fuck around. You’ll end up with more dead members. And finally, Balimund is to be left alone. Your beef is with me, not him. You have a problem with me, bring it to **ME**. Oh, Maul had better not trouble Kirsli ever again, because I will take great pleasure in ripping his dick off and shoving it up his ass. That is if Balimund doesn’t get to him first. Those are my terms.”

“In exchange for what, lass? We don’t bargain. We take what we want, when we want. Everyone is fair game.”

“No exchange. You do whatever you want with everyone else. I know you are smart enough to realize you don’t want me as an enemy. Next time I have to come down here I’ll bring the Companions and all my housecarls with me. The Thieves’ Guild won’t even be a memory. Skyrim will thank me and there is nothing Maven can do about that because when I’m through with all of you, she will be next.”

Brynjolf exhaled a weary breath. He knew what Mercer and Maven wanted. He knew what jobs they already had in the works and knew he wouldn’t be able to pull the plug on them so easily. And he knew how they’d react when they found out she’d killed Dirge and Tonilia. He just hoped to get away with his hide when it was all said and done. “I think I’ve had my fill of werewolves. The blacksmith won’t be troubled by us. You have my word. I’ll do my best to keep Maul away from the girl. She’s quite a spitfire. Maybe the blacksmith should keep a tighter leash on the little bitch,” he flashed a lopsided grin. “Perhaps if she’s barefoot and pregnant she wouldn’t be running around at night.”

Aria slapped him, “That’s beneath you, you ass. Let me clue you in on something. He isn’t bedding her.” She backed away, heading for the door. “I think we’re done here.”

~*~

When Balimund awoke the next morning, he was aware of two things. The first thing was that sometime during the night Kirsli had snuggled close seeking heat, for she was now pressed close against his chest with an arm slung over his waist and her legs tangled with his. Her head tucked under his chin as if she was meant to be there. She felt good, warm, in his arms. The second thing he was aware of was the aching erection hard enough to hammer nails with in his pants. He groaned at the predicament he had found himself in and knew he had to find a way out of it. Quickly.

He pulled away, sitting on the edge of the bed, and mentally willed his unruly member to behave. Or to subside. He didn’t need his body behaving like a lad, not when he swore he wouldn’t touch her. Even though he wanted to. He groaned, rubbing his face. Maybe if he dunked himself in the cold waters of Lake Honrich he’d be okay. Fuck, he groused mentally. Just find a woman, one that didn’t come with strings attached. Sate your need and be done with it, an inner voice chastised. He knew that wouldn’t satisfy what he truly wanted, though, and it was driving him crazy. 

He leaned back, gently resting a hand on her shoulder. “Kirsli honey, it’s time to wake up,” he said softly, giving her shoulder a little nudge.

Kirsli yawned, though she didn’t open her eyes, “Just a little bit longer. I’m so warm.”

“I know you are, honey, but we have a lot to do today.” He nudged her shoulder a second time, “Time to face the day.”

One eye popped open, the green one, gazing at him sleepily. “No, let’s just stay here and sleep.” She rolled onto her back and stretched, the blanket falling down past her chest. 

He looked away quickly, gritting his teeth while trying to suppress a moan as his erection continued to ache. He needed to get her out of this room. She was too damn much of a temptation as she was, and she didn’t even have a clue. Or maybe she did. “Kirsli,” his tone changed. “Get up. Go down to the common room, order us something to eat and I’ll be down in a few.”

She knew that tone, knew she was pushing the limits of his patience, and rolled to the side of the bed. She quickly grabbed her shoes, “Alright, grumpy.” She pulled them on her feet, and left the room, shutting the door behind her rather hard. 

Balimund sighed in relief. He’d gotten her out of the bed, out of the room and now he could take care of business. He’d rather suffer her displeasure momentarily than deal with what repercussions that bedding her might bring. She was a handful to deal with most days, a real spitfire. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what she’d be like if he had her beneath him, rutting into her. But the part of him that was throbbing and demanding attention wanted to find out. He knew he’d be damned if he ever did. And he’d never be able to let her go.

~*~

Kirsli waited patiently for Balimund at the table Talen had showed her to. She had ordered poached eggs and mutton for both of them as well as an apple dumpling. For Balimund she ordered ale and herself some milk. She wasn’t sure what had made him so grumpy that he shooed her out of the room, but it was rude. She had been sleeping peacefully and she was warm, but he was right about one thing. They did have a lot of work to do. She hoped cleaning up the house wouldn’t be as bad as he had made it out to be. Obviously there was more going on than her little tantrum. Whatever had happened had covered up for what she had done. She rather would have explained why she was so upset than have to deal with what had been done. 

She was still lost in her thoughts when he joined her. He touched her shoulder, startling her. She jumped, throwing a glare at him. “Stop doing that,” she hissed.

Balimund chuckled, obviously in a better mood. “You were staring off into nothing.” He grabbed the seat adjacent to her, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

She shrugged, “Nothing.”

He shook his head, “Didn’t look like nothing to me. I saw you make some pretty serious faces, and that was just on my way across the room.”

“Just some thoughts, nothing earth-shattering. Why do you want to know?” She rested her chin on the heel of her palm, chewing on the nail of her pinky finger. “Maybe I’d rather still be sleeping and someone woke me up.”

He laughed softly, “Someone’s certainly sassy. Maybe I should’ve let you sleep. I wouldn’t be dealing with your lip this morning.”

Kirsli cast a sideways glare at him, “That’s your own damn fault.”

He noted they were starting to draw attention. He leaned over, giving her that look. He lowered his voice, “Don’t be so loud. People will get the wrong idea and the rumors will start again.”

Before Kirsli could answer, Talen brought out their meals, setting them on the table. “If you need anything else, let me know.” 

Balimund nodded before he dug in. He was very hungry and there was a lot to do today. He focused on eating; trying to ignore the whispers he could hear around them. He was sure they had provided renewed fodder for the rumor mill. If they wanted to speculate, he couldn’t stop them. Haelga and many of the others would surely have picked their actions apart, examined them thoroughly and come to their own conclusions. All of them wrong. He didn’t feel it hurt him in any way, but it did Kirsli, because ignorant people believed the rumors to be true. It didn’t matter that he swore he’d never let it happen, not while she was this young. Not ever if he was truly smart. 

Once they were finished, he paid the bill and they left the Bee and Barb, heading for home. Asbjorn was waiting outside of the Scorched Hammer as was Aria. Kirsli made a noise of disapproval, her eyes flashing her malcontent. It was all Balimund could do to keep a straight face. Kirsli’s jealousy of the other woman was undeniably apparent and he was sure at some point it would come to a head. 

He greeted them both Asbjorn and Aria then removed the lock and chain from the door, opening the house for them to see. Kirsli gasped in abject horror, racing in ahead. She cried out as she headed for the basement. Her sobs echoed through the dwelling, heart-wrenching in their intensity. When she returned to the main floor of the house, she clutched in her hands what appeared to be nothing more than rags. 

She threw them at Aria’s feet. “The Guild didn’t have reason to trouble us. This never would have happened had you not stuck your nose into it. Brynjolf wouldn’t have tried to grab me last night. I don’t think you need to be here so you should leave and go back to wherever the hell you came from.” 

Balimund cocked an eyebrow at Kirsli before he realized what now rested at Aria’s feet had once been Kirsli’s clothing. They had been reduced to torn scraps of fabric. He knew why Kirsli was so upset, so angry. She had gone without for so long, wearing the same dress and boots until they fell apart. Then he had offered her a better life and her wardrobe had expanded. She often used the money she earned to buy a new dress, something pretty, and knew it was because of her past. Now she was reduced again to the clothes on her back. He wasn’t sure what her reaction would be when she saw the green dress she’d bought for the party on Loredas. It lay shredded in silken scraps on his floor. All he did know was she spent a pretty septim on that dress and the rest of ‘her savings’ in the safe had been stolen. 

“Kirsli, I understand you’re angry. I would be too, but let me make it up to you,” Aria offered. 

“I think you’ve done enough. We’ll take care of this. You don’t have any business here,” Kirsli’s tone became a little heated. She stared the older woman down, unflinching, but her behavior was beginning to concern Balimund. 

“Kirsli,” he spoke up, having to use that tone of voice again. 

She glared at him, backing off, and left the room. But a few minutes later she was right back with the remnants of her dress. She threw it at Aria again, this time aiming at her face. The scraps of green silk hit and fell to the floor. Renewed tears fell down her cheeks. “Now I don’t have a thing to wear on Loredas, either. Have you any idea how much that cost me? And where it came from and there’s no time to get another? You’ve ruined everything, you stupid bitch!”

“Are you done having a tantrum?” Aria commented. “It’s a good thing you’re a child because I’ve killed people for less. If you would’ve listened, I brought several brand new dresses with me because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to wear for the party.”

Kirsli stepped close to Aria, fire burning in her eyes, “I’m not a child.” She drew her arm back, balling her hand into a fist. It connected with Aria’s jaw with a crack. “And I don’t want your fucking handouts!”

Aria, the Dragonborn, staggered back. She hadn’t been expecting that. Asbjorn’s eyes grew to the size of saucers as an expletive slipped from his lips. Balimund groaned, moving quickly to grab Kirsli from behind. His large arms went around her, lifting her feet off the ground, pinning her to his chest. Kirsli kicked and struggled to get loose. “She’s got guts, that’s for damned sure.” Aria moved her lower jaw around and chuckled. It wasn’t broken. It hurt, but she’d taken harder hits. “Are you done, kiddo? Can we take a moment for sense to reassert itself?”

Kirsli tried to break loose. She wanted one more crack at Aria. Wanted to kick her in her perfect teeth, but Balimund was too strong. “Fine. Put me down.”

Balimund set her down to her feet, though his hands lingered on her shoulders. “I know this was a shock to you, but we’ll get through it and we’ll get you another dress for Loredas. It may not be as pretty or from Alinor, but you’ll look pretty in it, and that‘s what matters. You’ll see. So how about we put the house back together?”

She spun around, turning her angry, tearful eyes upon him. She raised herself to her tiptoes and buried her face beneath his chin. “I want that one,” she cried as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

He wrapped his arms around her, comforting her and allowing her to cry. He knew this hurt. She was so proud of that dress, but moreover it represented the loss of that much coin. She’d never been able to superfluously spend that much on any one thing before. She hiccuped, wiped her nose and pulled away. He brushed her tears away. “I know you want that one and if I could, I’d get you that one, honey, but we will find you a pretty dress, even if we have to take a trip to Windhelm before Loredas. I promise you.” Then he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

She sniffled, “I’ll hold you to that.”

Balimund looked around the room. Aria was nowhere to be seen and Asbjorn was sitting on the floor, stacking up the remains of the chairs. “I need to change out of these clothes then I’ll be out to help. Kirsli, you can either help Asbjorn and we tackle up here altogether or start downstairs?”

“Many hands make for light work, so let’s take of things up here then hit the basement. They tore my mattress to shreds. So looks like I’m taking your old room, Asbjorn, if the bed’s in better shape.”

“It’s yours, Kirs,” Asbjorn said as he stood up. “I don’t need it. Constance agreed to marry me. I talked to Maramal this morning before I came over here. The ceremony is in two weeks. It’ll be a small private wedding. We want you two to stand up for us, be our witnesses.”

Kirsli squealed, throwing her arms around him to hug him tightly. “Oh, that is wonderful. I can’t wait to talk to Constance!”

“I’m sure she’ll be looking forward to the ‘girl talk’ or whatever it is you women call it. All I know it involves a lot of giggling,” he grinned. 

“Congratulations, Asbjorn! It’s about time you make an honest woman of her!” Balimund clapped his adopted son on the back before giving him a hug also. “I am happy for both of you.”

“That’s what she said,” Asbjorn laughed. “Course, lot of that had to do with Grelod still bein’ alive.”

Kirsli began to help Asbjorn while Balimund changed into something he could work in. He found that not only had Kirsli’s clothing been shredded. A good portion of his had as well, but they missed a few. He found a spare set of dark wine red blacksmithing clothes in the basement. He wore all but the heavy apron to work in, for he doubted he’d be at the forge at all today. 

While he was in the basement, he took the time to fix his business ledger, and pry loose a slab of stone on the far wall. It hid his secret safe. He deftly worked the combination dial, opening it up, and took inventory of the funds within. It was something he had installed many years ago just in case something like this ever happened. They would need to refurnish the house. That meant placing a good size order with Bersi. 

Kirsli would also need some clothing, but he planned on taking the trip to Windhelm on the morrow so they could get her what she needed as well as a party dress. Hopefully one of the dry goods store’s up there would have something nice. He knew Solitude was the place to really look for something like that. There was a whole store of nothing but fine clothes called Radiant Raiment, but they didn’t have time to make the trip to Solitude and make it back on time for the party on Loredas. 

Once he had counted everything within the hidden wall safe, he locked it all back up and headed back upstairs. Kirsli and Asbjorn had made short work of getting the broken furniture into one pile. They had set the tables upright. Those were two things they wouldn’t need to order. 

So far from the main room, they’d need 4 chairs. Kirsli had cleaned up the food that had been strewn across the floor. She tossed out what was no good, added what they needed to the list and replaced what could be salvaged back into the pantry. Unfortunately, Balimund’s bottle of brandy was missing, and many bottles of their mead had been smashed on the floor. She was very careful cleaning up the glass. 

While they worked in on the living room, he started on his bedroom. He noticed the greatsword which rested upon the armoire was missing. Stolen, no doubt. The shredded clothing he tossed into a pile with the ruined bedding. He cursed loudly. The bed would need to be replaced as well. He cursed. Looked like he’d be spending another night at the Bee and Barb.

“That bad, huh?”

He shook his head as he glanced over at Aria, “Could be worse.”

“I’m sure I’m probably not wanted here so I’ll make this quick. I caused this so I’d like to help in any way I can. Brynjolf and the Guild won’t be troubling you again. He promised me that he’d keep Maul away from Kirsli as well.” Aria reported.

Balimund raised a wary eyebrow, “What did you do to get him to promise that?” 

Aria rubbed the back of her neck, “Well, I beat the shit out of the bastard and two of their members are dead. One of which was Maul’s brother, Dirge.”

He shook his head in disbelief, “Shit! Has anyone ever told you that you’re fuckin’ crazy?”

Aria chuckled, “Yeah. It comes with the territory of being Dragonborn.” Then she handed him a greatsword. “This is yours, I believe.”

“Much appreciated,” he nodded his head at her. “I noticed it was missing.” He took a few minutes to look the blade over, checking it over for any damage. Satisfied it was in as good condition as the day it was forged, he placed it on a weapon rack.

“I’m going to make a short trip to Falkreath. I have a manor house near Lake Ilinalta that I rarely use. It’s basically a getaway house for Farkas and I. Jarl Siddgeir sold me the land, but I didn’t bother becoming a Thane of his court because he’s a lecherous prick. Farkas threatened to kill Siddgeir to his face if he dared touch me again. It was awful. I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my whole life. Anyway, my point is I have the raw materials for the armors for my housecarls stored there. Plus that house is stuffed full of excess furniture and whatnot. Let me replace what was broken. I owe you. This wouldn’t have happened if not for me. Oh, and take this for the armor. I don’t know what you had in mind to charge me, but there’s quite a bit of coin in that purse.” Aria extended her hand to him, holding the bag of coin.

He rubbed his face. He felt very conflicted. On one hand he wanted to send her on her way, severing any ties between them. She had caused a lot of damage and he was sure they hadn’t seen all the fallout from it yet. But on the other hand, when was he ever going to get the chance to work with dragon bone and dragon scales. That was a smith’s wet dream. To have three housecarls of the Dragonborn wearing his work, he couldn’t buy better advertising. 

She flashed a questioning look at him, “You haven’t changed your mind about taking the commissions for the armor, have you? I can bring extra dragon bone and scale for you to experiment with. I literally have a ton of it.”

He shook his head, “It’s not that, Aria. I want to do the armor commissions. It’ll be great for my business. I’ll be the only smith in Skyrim working with dragon parts. It’s just the other…”

She sighed, “I understand, but please don’t hit me. Your little Kirsli has a temper and she hits pretty hard. I’m still wounded from the fight with Brynjolf. He stabbed me twice. I’ve got some more healing to do. I just hope I’m fully healed by the time I see Farkas. He’ll have a fit if he thinks I’ve started a Guild war. I know Vilkas will. He’ll say it’s more proof I’m not of the right temperament to be Harbinger and hell, maybe he’s right.”

“Ah, what the hell. I’d have to go through the trouble of ordering all of it anyway. We’ll work something out, alright?” He cracked a half-smile at her before accepting the coin purse. He’d have to take the time to count it later.

“It’ll take me a couple days, but I’ll be back in time for the party on Loredas. I can still count on you as my date, right? Or has that changed?”

“No, that hasn’t changed. Kirsli will have a fit. I think the reason she hasn’t chosen anyone is because she was hoping I’d take her, but I think it would send the wrong message. There are enough damn rumors as it is.”

“I know. I had to correct Brynjolf. He made an asinine comment, saying you should keep her barefoot and pregnant. He deserved being hit for that one.”

Storm clouds gathered within Balimund’s eyes. He cursed loudly, shaking his head. “I’d have killed that bastard if I were you, for a remark like that. Fuck!”

“He knows if he pisses me off again that I’m coming for his head and Maven’s and the whole stinkin’ Guild.” She wriggled her eyebrows mirthfully. “I think he got the message, though. Well, I’m not getting anything done standing here and neither are you. So I’m headed off to Falkreath.”

“That works out good for us. I’m taking Kirsli to Windhelm tomorrow. She needs clothes and a dress so I figure we’ll find more things there.”

“Check at Sadri’s, or with Niranye. Both usually have a decent selection of goods. If there was more time, I’d suggest Solitude for a dress, since she wasn’t interested in what I had to offer.”

He rolled his eyes, “I know. I think it’s jealousy, honestly, and I’ve tried talking to her, telling her what she envisions will never happen, but she persists.”

“When I get back, I’ll talk to her.” Aria promised. “She may not want to listen, but she will hear me. I’ll see you soon.” Then she headed out.

~*~

By the time the house was all cleaned up, it was painfully obvious that almost everything needed replaced. Only one chair that had been in the basement survived. It was brought upstairs and put with the surviving table. The bed in Asbjorn’s room hadn’t been ruined, either, so Kirsli would have a bed to sleep on tonight. She offered it to Balimund instead and said she could stay at Honorhall. Everything else they hauled outside of town and set fire to. Then he gave her some coin to go to Bersi’s so she’d have some clean clothes for the trip to Windhelm.

While she was out buying clothes, he sat in the basement, counting out the coins from the pouch Aria had given him. He wasn’t sure what he’d charge her for the three suits. It all depended on how much labor went into making them. He was sure though that the 5,000 septims within the pouch would more than pay for the suits, especially since she was providing the raw materials for them. The pouch had to be enchanted, though. There was no way a normal pouch of this size would hold that much. He stashed the coin in his hidden safe, except for enough for dinner. He and Kirsli would have to eat at the Bee and Barb again.

He heard her come back in, rummaging around in her portion of basement. He glanced back, watching as she took down the curtain and carried a few undamaged items upstairs. He chuckled to himself. She was already claiming Asbjorn’s old room. 

He followed her upstairs. “How about you get yourself cleaned up and we’ll have dinner over at the Bee and Barb? Sound good?”

She flashed a huge smile at him, “You’re on!”


	13. Windhelm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balimund takes Kirsli to Windhelm in search of a dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me no end of troubles. I was beginning to think it didn't want to be written. There will be more that happens in Windhelm so stay tuned.
> 
> Huge thanks goes out to my good friend alyssacousland for help, encouragement and being an excellent beta! Love ya! 
> 
> The dress Kirsli buys is also from a mod as well. It can be found [ here.](http://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/mods/67601/?) It's called Triss' Dress, inspired by Triss from the Witcher series.

After breakfast the next morning, Balimund led Kirsli to the stables where a carriage waited. Lucky for them, the man driving the carriage wasn’t Sigaar. The new wagon master was named Bjorlam and he had switched routes with Sigaar after the incident with Balimund months earlier. Balimund purchased two fares to Windhelm and soon they were on their way.

Kirsli fidgeted in her seat. A wide smile crossed her face. She had never been outside of The Rift, had spent most of her life in Riften. Getting to go to Windhelm, city of Ysgramor, excited her, left her undone with giddiness. She’d heard stories of the Palace of the Kings and of its current Jarl, Ulfric Stormcloak. His rebellion against the Empire, to free Skyrim, had the whole country in the midst of a civil war. Yet neither side had managed  to gain any ground. It had affected their lives, though, even in Riften. Balimund had spent countless hours smithing weapons ordered by Jarl Laila which certainly ended up in the hands of Stormcloak soldiers. And soon she would be getting the chance to see it.

From the cobblestone road, they turned onto a well worn trail with wagon rutted tracks in order to skirt Fort Greenwall. Bandits infested the decrepit fort, making it difficult to pass. The trail passed through a densely wooded area, which was teeming with wildlife. Kirsli could see foxes and hares, deer and elk and wolves. Deer and elk grazed on the frost covered grass while the wolves preyed upon them. She turned her head away, not wanting to watch the wolf pack take down an elk that’d fallen behind the herd.

Just beyond Shor’s Stone, the wagon trail reconnected with the road and the wagon turned back onto it. A traveler waited to board the wagon at Shor’s Watchtower. Soon Kirsli and Balimund were joined by a young farmer headed for Windhelm to join Ulfric’s rebellion. The young man was brash and boastful, barely a few years older than Kirsli. He wore the iron war axe at his hip like a badge of honor. “Ulfric’s got the right of it,” he stated. “I’m a true son of Skyrim and I won’t lay down my axe until the Empire is driven out and Ulfric is High King.”

The young man had courage. That was for sure, but it was apparent he’d never been in a battle before. Balimund hadn’t ever fought in a war, but he knew what it felt like to take a life. The intensity of the moment, the adrenaline pumping through your veins, the screams of the wounded and dying, the fear, the smell of blood and the acrid stink of fire and death. This pup would soon find out because Jarl Ulfric wouldn’t hesitate to send him and many other young men and women to their deaths in the name of Skyrim’s freedom.

Kirsli held onto Balimund’s arm, wary of the looks the young man, who had introduced himself as Thaern, had been shooting her. She rested her head against his shoulder, focusing on the scenery around them. The wagon was now descending off the high plateau The Rift sat upon, the steep grade making passage slow. The horses plodded along, held in check by the skilled wagon master. Every once in a while, she would motion to something she saw, asking about a landmark. Many caves dotted the landscape of this area. Some were said to home to hagravens and creatures from the deep called Falmer.  Most were bandit lairs.

“Do you remember nothing from your childhood?” Balimund asked. In all the time she’d lived under his roof, she had never once spoken of where she came from, who her parents were and what had happened to her father. Maybe she didn’t remember. It had been ten years. Perhaps the trauma of being dumped at the orphanage had locked the memories away.

She shook her head. “It’s all fuzzy. I don’t remember much from before. I had no siblings. It was just me. Mama was a blonde haired woman. I barely can recall her face. She liked to bake things, but wasn’t very good at it.” A puzzled look crossed her face. “We lived near Ivarstead, if I remember correctly. There was a waterfall. Papa fished a lot. He had red hair. Mama always said I took after him. I don’t remember how he died, but not long after he’d been buried, that’s when my Stepfather moved in. He was mean to me, didn’t like me. Said I had to go to Riften. There wasn’t anything for them in Ivarstead. I remember Mama seemed sad, but I didn’t understand why. I don’t remember them getting married, though. Of course, I ended up at Honorhall and you know the rest.”

“I’m sorry, Kirsli. I shouldn’t have asked.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a half hug to comfort her. “You may not believe it, but things probably worked out for the best this way. Who knows what would’ve happened to you if they’d taken you with them to Whiterun?”

She shrugged and sniffled. She didn’t want to think about it. “I’d rather be here.” She turned her gaze back to the scenery. In the far distance she could see the tundra hot springs that made up part of Eastmarch’s landscape. A dragon circled about in the distance. She shivered, hoping they didn’t encounter that thing. The grade of the road had started to lessen, allowing their speed to pick up. She continued to point things out. “Oh, look over there. The buildings have golden roof tops. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“Those are Dwemer ruins, sweetie. I think that may be Mzulft,” he smiled. Her enthusiasm was refreshing. She had such a thirst for knowledge. “Last I heard, there were mages from Cyrodiil investigating it, but that’s been a while back. Mostly town gossip.”

“Oh, why would mages come here from Cyrodiil to study Dwemer ruins? Don’t they have any of their own?” She questioned, pursing her lips as her brow furrowed thoughtfully.

Balimund chuckled, “Dwemer ruins don’t exist in Cyrodiil. They have ruins from the Ayleid culture, but not the Dwemer.”

“Who were the Ayleid?” The furrow grew. She had so many questions. There was so much she wanted to know.

“How about I buy you a book on it? Better yet, maybe we should think about you getting some schooling, especially if you are serious about the College of Winterhold. You’ll need a formal education, Kirs.” Balimund suggested, broaching the subject with her slowly and carefully.

“I like the idea. Going to college would be a dream come true, but where would I get this formal education? Who would teach me? There’s nothing of that sorts in Riften.” She bit her lower lips, worrying it between her teeth.

“You’d have to leave Riften, and Skyrim, but it would be worth it. There’s nothing in Riften for you, and it would open up a whole world of possibilities.” He knew by the look on her face that his suggestion hadn’t gone over well.

Her eyes flashed, anger building in them. “Leave Riften? Why would you suggest that? And who put this idea in your head? Let me guess, her name starts with the letter ‘A.’ Is that bitch trying to get rid of me?”

Balimund bit his tongue, mentally counting to ten. Kirsli was still jealous, that was obvious. And the way she ran her mouth was starting to get on his nerves. Despite certain revelations of his own, he knew he had to put a stop to her behavior once and for all. His jaw clenched. The urge to turn her over his knee and tan her hide was strong, but he knew it wouldn’t solve a thing. “Kirsli,” he hissed. “I’ve had enough of the name calling. And furthermore, why would you think she wants to get rid of you?”

She glanced around the wagon, mindful of the other passenger and of the wagon master. If they were alone, she could get a few things off her chest, but there was someone else present. “You know why,” she retorted as she scooted away from him. She crossed her arms before her chest, huffing indignantly. Her legs were also crossed, her foot pumping back and forth angrily. She shot a glare at him.

Balimund knew it would make her even madder, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to laugh at the whole messed up situation. She was glorious when she was angry, and very beautiful. Fury painted her cheeks with a natural blush no cosmetic could begin to match. It made him wonder what passion would look like upon her flawless skin. He shook his head and pushed that thought aside. He didn’t need to know. Rich laughter slipped from his lips, “Kirs, you silly goose, Aria is getting married to one of her fellow Companions.”

Her eyes narrowed while her mind chewed on that tidbit of information. Then she rolled her eyes at him and looked away, huffing angrily. This prompted more laughter from him. This trip so far had been going so well. He knew he’d have to talk to her again sometime about the finishing school Aria had mentioned. That would go over well. Hopefully he could convince her it would be for the best. He held firm to the belief that she needed to get out of Riften, before Mara only knew what happened that he would surely end up regretting.

~*~

The roar of a dragon could be heard as they crossed into Eastmarch. The hot springs stretched out before them, as steam rose from green pools of water. Skeletal remains of mammoths rose from the sandy landscape. Living versions meandered across the tundra herded by giants that stood at least twenty-feet tall.

Kirsli’s eyes grew in amazement as her anger dissipated like dust in the wind. She had never seen such beasts before. From the side of the road, a bear stood on its hind legs, roaring out a warning. Not far from it, a sabre cat chased down large antlered elk. She glanced away again, staring at the road ahead.

There seemed to be three warriors in similar dark armor in the road, fighting off a pair of sabre cats and a giant. The wagon master drew the wagon to a halt a fair distance away, waiting for the road to clear. He stood up, pulling forth a spyglass to get a better look at who was doing the fighting. Once his curiosity was satisfied, the wagon master sat back down and turned to his passengers. “Up ahead in the road taking care of those beasts are three members of the legendary Companions. I used to see them fairly regularly when I worked out of Whiterun. You won’t find a more talented group of fighters in all of Skyrim. Their mead hall, Jorrvaskr, is the oldest building in Whiterun.”

Bjorlam handed back his spyglass, letting his passengers get a look at the Companions in action. Kirsli passed it over, scoffing when he had mentioned the name ‘Companions’, but Balimund was interested in getting a look at them. All three were male, the smallest being a Dunmer, who fought with two longswords. His attacks were fast, a flurry of blows meant to confuse and drain. The second male in the distinctive wolf armor he’d seen Aria wearing the other night when she’d come by with the fire salts had blond hair and fought with a war axe and shield. Even from this distance he could tell those weapons were of Skyforge Steel make. The Companions didn’t wield anything else. The third male was the bulkiest of all with close-cropped dark hair and war paint on his rugged face. He wielded a greatsword as if it was an extension of his own arms.

It didn’t take the three warriors long to make short work of the sabre cats before turning their attention to the giant, who stomped his feet and slammed his heavy club down into the earth, shaking the ground around him. Two of the warriors staggered backwards, but the one wielding the greatsword stood firm, striking at the creature’s legs with a war cry on his lips. That one was surely a master swordsman.

Bjorlam set his team of horses into motion once more, hoping to get a better view of the three Companions taking on the giant. He stopped again a short distance away, a wide grin on his face. It wasn’t everyday one got to be this up close and personal watching the Companions battle something.

The giant fell, crashing to the earth with a heavy impact. The three let out cries of victory before noticing they had an audience. Bjorlam stood on his wagon, hailing them over. As they neared his wagon, he reached under his seat and pulled out a few bottles of mead, handing them down. “It’s always a beautiful sight to watch the Companions do what you do best. Here’s to you, Farkas, Torvar, Athis.”

The name Farkas caught Balimund’s attention. That was Aria’s fiancée. He wasn’t sure if he should mention he knew her, but what would it hurt? Maybe Kirsli would get over her little snit about Aria and maybe things would go smoothly on Loredas. He hopped down out of the wagon and walked around to the front where the three men stood, enjoying the bottles of Honningbrew that Bjorlam had given them. “Hail, Companions. That was some fine fighting. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand to Farkas. “I’m Balimund, the smith from Riften. I know Aria.”

Farkas gave the newcomer a once-over, glancing up and down, his brows furrowing over heavy lidded silver eyes at the mention of Aria’s name. The name sounded familiar, but Aria had helped so many people during her travels. He thought pensively. Blacksmith. Riften. That’s where she was headed a few days ago. He knew there was a reason. “Oh, the fire salts,” Farkas said aloud as it came to him, extending his hand to shake Balimund’s. “Nice to meet you.”

Balimund glanced over at the fallen sabre cats, “I’d pay good coin for those sabre cat pelts, if you’re of a mind to bring them to me in Riften.”

Farkas grinned, “Consider it a deal. Is Aria in Riften right now? I think she said something about a special event for two of the townsfolk she’d helped out, but I don’t recall when.”

“Loredas. She said yesterday that she needed to make a short trip to Falkreath to gather the raw materials for three suits of armor she’d commissioned for her housecarls. You just might surprise her if you show up with those pelts,” Balimund chuckled.

“I bet it would,” his smile widened. It was easy to see that the warrior was head over heels in love with Aria. “Don’t tell her.”

Balimund shook his head, “Don’t worry. I won’t say a thing. I have business in Windhelm anyway.”

Torvar belched loudly before belligerently sneering at the smith talking to Farkas. “Why would our Harbinger commission armor from you? Everyone knows Skyforge Steel is the best.”

Balimund raised an eyebrow, chuckling at the man’s rudeness. “She wanted dragon bone armor made so she asked me.” He wasn’t offended. Far from it really. Aria had mentioned that Torvar spent more time drunk than sober and often spoke out of turn.

“Torvar, this is why you’re still a whelp, and why you shouldn’t speak ill of the decisions of the Harbinger. Besides, you know Eorlund won’t make special armor for non-Companions.” Farkas reprimanded him in a stern tone.

Torvar bowed his head, suddenly finding his boots interesting. At least he had the good sense to look ashamed.

Balimund bid the Companions farewell and climbed back into the wagon. Moments later, they were on their way again. Beyond the tundra was the sleepy little town of Kynesgrove. It was nothing more than an inn and a mine with a handful of inhabitants.

The closer to Windhelm they got, the colder it became. Snow flurries danced upon a frigid North wind. Kirsli shivered. Now she knew why Balimund insisted she dress as warmly as possible. Not an easy feat considering most of her clothing ended up as cloth scraps. She burrowed into her coat and snuggled into his side. He was plenty warm. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, accepting her presence at his side. So far it seemed their earlier argument had been forgotten.

Though she was cold, she was excited about the snow. In all her life she’d never seen it like this before. She could vaguely remember seeing the snow covered peaks surrounding the Throat of the World and the Jeralls in the distance, but to have the snow falling all around her was something new. Tiny crystallized flakes fell upon her gloved hand. She remembered her Papa telling her when she was but a little girl that snowflakes were the frozen tears of the Gods. She was in awe.

Her breath caught in her throat as the wagon descended a short slope and pulled up in front of the Windhelm Stables. A long stone bridge spanned the White River leading up to the city gates. Windhelm was the city of Ysgramor, the oldest city in Skyrim and the oldest continuously inhabited human settlement in all of Tamriel. She’d never seen anything so grand before. While Mistveil Keep was an impressive edifice, it paled in comparison to The Palace of the Kings. It towered above the surrounding buildings. Where Mistveil seemed warm and inviting, Windhelm’s Palace was stark and austere.

Balimund helped her out of the wagon and together they crossed the bridge to the city gates. Ornate carvings of three stone eagles rested above the gate, welcoming visitors with an open maw. Adorning the stone walls were more carvings, predominantly bears as the symbol of Eastmarch was a great bear.

The atmosphere of the city was as bleak as the sky. Townsfolk wandered about with weary expressions on their weathered faces. Most seemed to be going about their daily lives, while others took advantage of the chaos that the civil war had created to force their opinions down the throats of the less fortunate. One in particular stood out.

Balimund led Kirsli to the small marketplace in the Stone Quarter. He knew that one of the vendors Aria had mentioned had her stall there. He pointed it out, allowing Kirsli to shop while he stopped by the local smithy, casually browsing the wares on display. He knew Oengul mostly through reputation. The man could be quite boastful, but his work spoke for itself. They’d met once more than a few years ago, during his last visit to Windhelm.

One piece in particular caught his eye. He lifted it from where it rested, examining it thoroughly. The workmanship in it was extraordinary. It was old, that much was clear, but the blade was as sharp as if it was brand new.

“I don’t allow just anyone to handle that.” A male voice from behind him called out. “Best to put it back.”

Balimund turned in the direction of the voice. “I know how to handle a blade with care, Oengul. This one is beautiful.”

“That’s Queen Freydis’ sword. She ruled over Windhelm during the Second Era, reclaimed for me by the Dragonborn. That one rarely leaves Ulfric’s side nowadays. It’ll be a fitting gift to present our new High King.” Oengul boasted proudly.

“The Dragonborn, you say?” Suspicion furrowed Balimund’s brow. As far as he knew, Aria had claimed she’d never join the Stormcloak rebellion. Something didn’t seem right. “That must’ve been quite the boon for Ulfric to have the Dragonborn join his cause.”

“It has been. He’s inspired so many to join Ulfric’s cause. So many who had been on the fence about the Ulfric’s rebellion have now flocked to Windhelm. The Dragonborn is a true son of Skyrim.”

“Son? What’s he like? This legendary bastion of Nord-dom.” Now he knew his suspicions were unfounded. Aria hadn’t joined the Stormcloak rebellion. It was a pretender claiming to be the Dragonborn. An obvious scare tactic against the Empire on Ulfric’s behalf. All lies. He wondered if Aria knew. “Is he Talos incarnated as the stories claim?”

“He’s very tall and broad. He wields a battleaxe like he was Ysgramor. Every Nord should aspire to be like him. I hear Ulfric’s ready to take Whiterun and the Dragonborn will be leading the charge.” Oengul beamed. “The Legion or all of Balgruuf’s men or the Companions couldn’t stop him. It doesn’t bode well for them, especially since I’ve heard the Companions are neutral about the war. Ulfric’s not pleased about them not joining his side.”

Balimund crossed his arms, “That’s interesting because I heard the new Harbinger claim she’d single-handedly defend Whiterun against any attack from the Stormcloaks or the Imperial Legion. I know her. I’ve seen her fight.”

“But could she defeat the Dragonborn, with the power of the Voice? I highly doubt it.” Oengul retorted. “Eh, enough of that. What brings you out to the Rift?”

“My apprentice needed a few things she couldn’t get in Riften,” he said as he glanced over at Kirsli before replacing the sword.

“Taken on another, eh? Is the boy out on his own now?”

“He’s getting married in a couple weeks, but he still works for me. That one over there has talent, and she’s very smart. I’ll be thankful for both of them. The Harbinger commissioned three suits of armor from me, two of which are dragon bone, for her housecarls. I’ll be busy for a while.” He glanced over, noticing that Kirsli was walking toward him. “I think she’s ready. Good talking to you, Oengul. Say if you see the Dragonborn tell him to come down to Riften. We’d like to express our gratitude.”

“Will do and have a safe trip back. It’s dangerous on the roads.”

Balimund met up with Kirsli, who was wearing a long face. He cocked an eyebrow, “No luck?”

She shook her head, “No, Niranye didn’t have anything. She said to check Sadri’s Wares, but she said I probably wouldn’t find what I was looking for here. I’d need to go to Solitude.”

They made their way to the part of Windhelm known as the Grey Quarter and found Sadri’s. The Dunmer proprietor smiled at them as they entered the small store. It looked like it had seen better days, but that could also be said for the entire Quarter. It was obvious that Ulfric was content to let the dark elves reside in such squalid conditions.

As they entered the shop, the Dunmer behind the counter called out a pleasant greeting. “Hello, do come in. A trader dropped by recently with some lovely pieces, if you'd like to have a look. And all my goods are legitimate, which is more than I can say for some.”

Kirsli stepped up to the counter, fidgeting slightly. “I’m looking for a dress. A special party dress. I hoped you’d have something like that in stock.”

He rubbed his chin, “By Azura, I think I might have something. I did some trading with one of the Khajiit caravans. Let me see.” He walked from behind the counter, entering the back room. After several minutes of rummaging about, he returned, a large dress box in hand. He laid it upon the counter, opening it for her.

He revealed a dark gold brocade strapless dress. Diamonds and pearls adorned a band at the top as well as the bodice and a skirt. Kirsli lifted it out of the box, holding it up against her. It was a gorgeous creation, one she doubted she could afford. She could dream, though.

“You can use the back room to try it on, if you’d like. It comes with gloves, a wrap, slippers and jewelry.” Revyn commented.

She didn’t waste time grabbing up the contents of the box, taking it with her to the back room. Quickly she slipped out of her clothing and into the dress. It fit her well, hugged her curves. The gloves were of the same brocade material, fingerless and were elbow length. She slid them up, loving the feel. Then she slipped the matching slippers onto her feet. Finally she added the jewelry.

She stepped out into the main room. Balimund’s eyes widened slightly, his mouth going dry. She looked beautiful in it. He fought back a groan.

“How do I look?” she asked. Her eyes gleamed.

He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. She looked stunning. He shifted, willing a certain part of himself to calm down. “It is lovely dress, Kirs and you look nice in it, but I think it might be too mature for you. Might give off the wrong idea.” Especially the ones he was thinking as he eyed her. The way it hugged her, and enhanced her chest…it reminded him how badly he was in need of a woman.

“If I might intercede,” Revyn spoke up. “I don’t think it’s too mature for her. She is a beautiful young lady and deserves to wear such finery.”

Balimund frowned at him. The merchant wasn’t helping. He knew the man was looking to make a sale.

“I like it. It’s prettier than the other dress I bought. You think I look pretty in it, don’t you?”

“Yes, Kirsli, you look very pretty in it. All I’m saying is you know much trouble you have with the men in Riften. What message do you think this dress will send if you show up at the party wearing it? Maybe you need something that covers you up more.”

Her eyes flashed fire briefly. “Then you should go as my date and there won’t be that trouble!”

He shook his head. He knew she was going to say that. He knew she would press the issue. “You know what people would say if I did. Besides I’m taking Aria.”

She glared at him, “Figures. We came here to find me a dress. This is the only one I’ve found and I like it. I want this one. I want something nice.”

He bit his tongue, holding in what he wanted to say. It wouldn’t do well to hurt her feelings. He had to remind himself this was for her and wasn’t about what he was feeling. “Fine, Kirsli,” he sighed tiredly, rubbing his face. Hopefully the Dunmer didn’t have an extravagant price on it. “We’ll take it.”

She did a little happy dance while Balimund settled up the bill. It wasn’t as expensive as he thought it would be, but it was more than he had wanted to spend. At least they still had coin enough for their meals, a room at the inn and fare back to Riften.

 


	14. Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument with Balimund lands Kirsli in a dangerous situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to express my undying gratitude to alyssacousland for her help, wonderful beta skills and for all the encouragement that keeps me going. Love ya dearly!

Chapter Fourteen: Lies

The interior of the Candlehearth Inn was warm and the smell of fresh baked bread beckoned an inviting atmosphere. Many of the townsfolk gathered in the Great Room around a central fireplace, listening to the harmonic verse of the Dunmer bard exalting the virtues of Jarl Ulfric’s rebellion and of the Dragonborn.

Upon finding an empty table, a rather attractive barmaid came by to take their order. Kirsli frowned, briefly flashing angry eyes while Balimund flirted with the voluptuous blonde.

“Ugh! Could the wench possibly wear less?” Kirsli scoffed, displeasure darkening her eyes.

Balimund let a chuckle slip. Kirsli’s jealousy was very evident. He knew he should put an end to it, but some part of him enjoyed it.

“She’s here to entice the men into drinking more. I happen to appreciate it. She is quite beautiful.” And he had been without for far too long.

Kirsli sneered at him followed by a rather disgusted noise.

“You know if you roll around with skeevers, you’re bound to get fleas.” Her eyes flashed again. “Isn’t that what you usually tell Haelga? This wench isn’t any different.”

He shook his head, leaning in. His voice dropped to just above a whisper. His teeth clenched. The jealousy had gotten old and he’d be damned if he put up with any more of it.

“What is it to you what she does? How is it any of your business to look down your nose at her? Who are you to judge her? You don’t know what her life is like, what she has been through.”

She glared at him. He was right and they both knew it. She crossed her arms, huffing indignantly, but said nothing further. She really just wanted to head back to Riften, but the plan was to spend the night and return in the morning.

The rest of the day couldn’t pass quickly enough.

~*~

 The only room the inn had available was small, with a single bed. It was barely big enough for one person. Balimund didn’t want to think about sharing it. Not with Kirsli. It would surely be his undoing. So when the offer of a nightcap came from the tavern wench, Susanna, he quickly accepted. She was clearly interested in more than just drinks. 

And he was more than happy to oblige.

The one not happy about the arrangement was, of course, Kirsli.

She closed the door, shutting them in the room together. Her mind worked furiously as she tried to form her thoughts into a valid argument against it. Unshed tears stung her eyelids. She fixed a sensual gaze upon him, beckoning him to take what she was offering.

“You don’t need to go with that woman. You don’t even know her. There’s nothing she can give you that I can’t.” Kirsli began. She leaned against him, brazenly running her fingers down his chest. “No one back home will ever know, either. Let _me_ take care of you. Please.”

Somehow her boldness didn’t surprise him. He had known all her protests and glares were leading up to this. She was right. No one back home would know, but there would be plenty of gossip. Exactly what he wanted to avoid.

But he couldn’t.

Wouldn’t.

He knew it had to end here.

Make the cut. Quick. Clean.

And pray to the Divines it was the right thing, that it didn’t hurt her too badly.

He placed his hands on his hips, leveled upon her a stern look. “I’m only going to say this once. So get it through that thick head of yours. What you want is _never_ going to happen. It’s not your age, girl. You just aren’t what I’m looking for in a woman. You’re not blonde. And you’re a tad too much on the scrawny side. I prefer a much more voluptuous woman. I want a woman I don’t have to worry about breaking during sex. I’ve never been particularly gentle. You’re also far too clingy.”

The dam broke. Tears spilled down her cheeks unchecked. Balimund hated seeing them. Hated knowing he had been the one to put them there. But it was for the best. She’d thank him in the long run.

“We both know once would never be enough for you. You’d tempt fate and before you knew it, you’d end up with child. Quite frankly, I’m not looking to settle down, not with you. Not with anyone. Have you honestly not considered why I’m a bachelor at my age? It’s by choice.”

His hard stare cut through her, sharper than any blade he had ever forged.

“Just don’t take it personally. I’m not saying you aren’t beautiful, because you are. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. I’m saying what I’ve said before. Don’t offer yourself up like a tart. You’re better than that.”

Kirsli tasted bitter tears. She didn’t want to believe what she heard, not out of him. He had never been that cruel. Not to her. But the seriousness of his expression, the censure in his voice, and the stiffness of his posture spoke volumes.

She hastily wiped her tears, backing away from him. “And you are fucking in denial. Do you think I don’t know how you watch me, especially when you think no one notices? Tell your lies. Lie to yourself. Lie if it makes you feel less guilty for wanting what you _think_ you shouldn’t want. Lie with that whore. Get your fill, but don’t you dare come whining to me for a potion when you end up with crotch rot!” She yanked the door open and angrily stormed away, leaving the inn behind.

Fury and no small amount of hurt coursed through her. Let him have that whore. She knew what he was doing. She scoffed. His actions were so transparent. Did he honestly think she didn’t see right through him? Damn him. She wasn’t about to put up with it. However much she enjoyed residing in the same house as Balimund, she knew it was time for her to move on. Move out of the Scorched Hammer. He could fix his own meals and keep his own house clean. She was done.

Constance was in need of an assistant at Honorhall. Kirsli hoped she could convince her to hire her on. She would need the help, especially after she married Asbjorn and the two had a child. Kirsli knew Constance wanted one. So did Asbjorn. He wanted to pass on the skills he learned from Balimund.

It all came back to him.

~*~

Kirsli wandered around the Grey Quarter for a while before making her way to the docks. These ones were nothing like the ones in Riften. The cold bite of the northern wind hit them the hardest. Half a dozen boats were moored here, bobbing forlornly in the frigid water. Most of the workers were Argonian, doing menial labor the Nords would not.

She found a quiet spot near one of the warehouses and hunkered down, trying to escape the biting wind. She didn’t want to be anywhere near Balimund or that wench right now and she was sure he wouldn’t come looking for her here. If that meant staying away from the inn, then so be it. It wasn’t like she didn’t know hardship. She did, all too well. It was here that she let the tears fall again, pouring out the pain from that brutal rejection.

She never thought she’d hear those words from him. She never thought he’d be so malicious. Whether it was the truth or not, he could’ve let her down easier. Maybe she’d just pushed too much. This wasn’t the first time. Maybe he finally got tired of making her understand.

Still she knew what she had felt when she was wrapped up in his arms just a couple nights ago. She knew what she had felt when she awoke in his arms. He was hard, fully aroused. She’d bet everything she had that he would not have shooed her out of the room that morning if she were older. She was certain he would’ve bedded her. He could lie all he wanted, but she knew better.

~*~

As dusk fell, she left the docks, wandering back into the Grey Quarter. She loathed to admit that it hurt even more that he hadn’t come looking for her. He always had before. Guess he was too busy bedding that wench.

She passed through the gates. She wasn’t sure where she would go now. She had seen some kind of cornerclub next to Sadri’s. Perhaps she’d head there. She had a small amount of coin in her purse; hopefully it would be enough to rent a bed for the night.

Just inside the gates stood a child, no more than eight or so, holding a basket of flowers. She shivered uncontrollably within the threadbare coat she wore, which looked to be far too small for her. Her eyes were sad. Her cheeks and nose were red from the cold. Her patchwork dress looked as if it had seen better days.

Truth be told, it probably had. Kirsli knew what this little girl was going through. Only Riften was a good bit warmer than Windhelm. Kirsli had also been older.

She stepped forth, “Would you like to buy some flowers? Please.”

“Let me see what you have,” Kirsli replied, smiling at the girl. She peered into the basket. It held several red and blue mountain flowers, nightshade and lavender. “I’ll take them all.”

Kirsli gave her 10 septims.

“Why are you begging out here? Where are your parents?”

The little brown haired girl turned sad hazel eyes upon Kirsli. She sneezed and sniffled.

“They... they're dead. My mama died when I was little... I... I don't remember her very well. My father was a Stormcloak soldier. One day, he left and... didn't come back. I'm all alone... I... I try to sell flowers so I can buy food. It's not much but... what else can I do?”

She was an orphan, alone on the streets of the coldest, snowiest city in Skyrim.

“What’s your name?”

“Sofie.”

Kirsli smiled warmly at her. “My name is Kirsli. I lost my papa when I was a few years older than you are. I was sent to Honorhall in Riften. I’m surprised you haven’t been sent there, too. I could take you there if you’d like to get out of the cold and not have to worry about buying food. Constance will take good care of you.”

Sofie shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. “No, I’ve heard that’s a horrible place. No one wants to go there.”

Kirsli tried to give her a hug, but she squirmed away. “It used to be a bad place. That was because of old Grelod. She was mean, but she died. It’s better now. Constance is very nice. I help her sometimes. You could go with me back to Riften and I’ll take you to meet Constance. I know you’ll like her. Besides, it would be better than this.”

Sofie looked around, a scared look in her eyes. She really wanted to get out of the cold. Would love to have a real home again. She missed her papa so much, but even she knew she’d probably die if she stayed here. Reluctantly she replied, “I’ll go to Riften with you, to Honorhall.”

“Let’s get you something to eat.”

Kirsli led her to the New Gnisis Cornerclub. The mood was just as frosty inside as it was out in the cold. The Dunmer barkeep sneered at her, his hate of the Nords obvious.

“Another damn Nord,” he scoffed. “I’m sure you’ll be more at home at the Candlehearth, not here.”

“This little girl needs something to eat and I have coin to buy it,” Kirsli retorted, her eyes flashing angrily. She wasn’t used to such rudeness from an elf. Not even Tythis. “Or is my coin not good enough for you?”

His eyes flicked over Sofie. He’d run the little girl out into the cold before when she had no gold to pay for her meal. It was a terrible thing to do to a child, but he knew the Nords wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to a Dunmer child begging in one of their establishments or on their streets.

Kirsli slammed several gold coins down on the counter. “She’ll have hot soup, preferably with vegetables if you have them. And warm milk.”

The Dunmer glared at her. “I do have the right to refuse service, but I’m sure you’d be like the rest of the Nords in the gods-forsaken city and complain to the Jarl.”

Kirsli really wanted to scream at him, but that wouldn’t endear him at all. She calmed her voice and flashed him a small smile. “I’m not from here. I live in Riften. I just here on a day-trip and it’s not been a good day. So I really don’t appreciate your attitude. I’m not like the people here. Growing up, I was an orphan so I know what she’s going through. Besides I have nothing against your people.”

Revyn Sadri walked up to the counter and stood beside her, “Calm down, Ambarys. She spent a great deal of coin in my shop today. Bought that gold dress I thought I’d never sell.”

Ambarys nodded his head at Revyn before serving the little girl. The barkeep then collected the gold coins she had placed on the counter.

“Thank you,” Kirsli said to Revyn.

She made sure Sofie finished all of it then escorted her back out into the cold, telling her about the room at the Candlehearth that they could sleep in. As they made their way back, something peaked her interest and she stopped.

It was Calixto’s House of Curiosities.

“I wonder what curiosities he has. Shall we see?”

Though it was late in the evening, and she expected the shop would probably close soon, she guided Sofie into the shop.

A middle aged man wearing an embroidered red and purple tunic greeted her warmly.  

“Welcome to the House of Curiosities! I offer a brief tour for a few coins, or you can simply browse at your leisure.”

Kirsli smiled, “I think we’d like a tour. How much do you charge?”

“Five septims, but the wonders I present are well worth it.” She handed him the gold, noting her coin purse was getting lighter. She’d have to save what she had left, at least until she was back home and gathered the rest. “Splendid! If you'll just follow me, I'll tell you tales and show you wonders such as you've never seen.”

"My sister and I inherited a modest sum of money. We decided to travel and seek out whatever adventures we could find. As we journeyed across Tamriel, we encountered tales of exotic and wondrous artifacts. We decided to collect as many as we could. My sister passed away some years ago, so I settled down here and opened the House of Curiosities. I think she would be happy to know that our collection has brought smiles to faces both young and old."

Calixto got up out of his chair and escorted Kirsli and Sofie to a nearby shelf.

"These tools were found in a crypt outside Windhelm. They belonged to the ancient Nords who dwelt in Skyrim before the days of the First Empire. Most scholars believe that the Nords of old used these implements to prepare their dead for burial. What macabre mysteries would these tools reveal if they could but speak?"

They moved out onto another shelf. He cleared his throat.

"Here is the Book of Fate, discovered in a secret room in the Arcane University. The writing in the book describes the destiny of its reader, so the words change from one person to the next. Some see only blank pages, and nobody knows why. Perhaps some of us are born with no destiny, or maybe the blank pages signify an imminent death."

Kirsli’s curiosity got the best of her with this item. She wondered how it worked and she was more than a little curious about her fate. What would happen to her? Should she leave Riften behind for an education? She wanted to study the arcane, wanted to go to the College of Winterhold. She knew magic was anathema to mostly all Nords, but she couldn’t help but want to unlock its mysteries.

Picking up the book, she flipped through its pages. Her brow furrowed as the book showed her a dock, a ship and what looked like a potion bottle. None of that made any sense to her, but perhaps in the future it would become clearer.  

He ushered them to another shelf.

"Ah, now here is an item out of legend. This is Ysgramor's Soup Spoon. Now, I know what you're thinking - this is no spoon, it's a fork! Nobody can eat soup with a fork! Well, my friend, you did not know Ysgramor."

Kirsli flashed an incredulous look at him. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “No one alive can say they knew Ysgramor. He’s been dead a long time.”

A lopsided smile crossed his weathered face, “You are a smart one.” Then final stop on the tour was on a nearby table.

"Don't let this innocent-looking flute fool you, for this is the Dancer's Pipe. Legend holds that the Dancer's Pipe has won wars, toppled empires and changed the very course of history. None know its origins, but the stories say that men who hear its music are compelled to dance uncontrollably, no matter the peril. To activate this strange power, one must only speak the magic words, which are... Oh my, I very nearly got us both into a nasty predicament, didn't I?"

Calixto stepped aside, gesturing to the door.

"And with that, the tour is over. I thank you for your patronage, and I hope to see you again soon!"

Kirsli smiled placidly, “And you are welcome. It is a most interesting collection. Have a good evening.”

“Oh, I will.” A curious look flashed through his eyes briefly. “I will.” Calixto knew he had just found what he was looking for, especially since Susanna proved to be most elusive. He had almost cornered her a few nights before. And this evening she seemed to have male company. But the girl who just left his shop could prove to be a worthy replacement. She looked like she had strong joints, which would surely contain some exquisite tendons.

He would follow her, but he’d have to scare away the little girl. He would get this one alone.

Soon.

It wouldn’t be much longer.

~*~

“Can you take me to the Hall of the Dead, please? My mama is buried there and I want to say goodbye to her one last time before I go to Riften.” Sofie turned pleading eyes upon Kirsli.

There was no way Kirsli could refuse that request. “How about you lead the way because I don’t know where the Hall is located?”

Sofie beamed at her, “I’ll show you.”

The skies were overcast. Not much moonlight shone through, making the city darker than usual. Despite the fact that there were a few streetlamps here and there, it lent a touch of foreboding. Kirsli shivered. She didn’t like it at all, but she didn’t want to disappoint the little girl. Besides, she was in no hurry to get back to the inn. She didn’t want to see Balimund with that wench. Hopefully the old fool would have sense enough to do his business elsewhere. She really didn’t want to hear their moans of pleasure. That would be too much.

The Hall of the Dead was closed for the night, but that didn’t seem to bother Sofie. She simply led Kirsli to a small tombstone outside in the small graveyard. Kirsli gave Sofie the time to say her goodbyes. She kept her distance, but kept a watchful eye on the little girl.

~*~

With her attention on the child, it made it easy for the one who had been stalking her to sneak up on her. He grabbed her from behind, one hand clamping over her mouth while his other arm snaked around her waist, holding her tight.

Kirsli screamed. It came out muffled as the hand was pressed tight. She felt her feet leave the ground as someone picked her up. She kicked and struggled. Her mind raced furiously. She’d been through this before with Maul. Fight him off. Get loose enough to scream for help. She knew she couldn’t reach her dagger yet, but she knew of one thing that might work.

She focused her mind for a moment. It wasn’t easy as her attacker jerked her around. Dipping into the well of her magicka, she bought her arm up, casting a flames spell at the hand which covered her mouth. He growled as the fire scorched his flesh, allowing her to scream louder. Her legs flailed, kicking harder. He grunted as her boot connected with his knee. Then came another blast of fire, this one more concentrated, hotter. It blistered his skin.

He let go. She screamed as loudly as she could. “HELP ME!”

His hands snaked about her throat and he squeezed. She would be his.

“Sofie, run! Get help!” Kirsli managed.

He gripped her chin, wrenching her neck as if he was trying to snap it. Then he could drag her off to his lair, and take the tendons and marrow he still needed to complete his masterpiece, his opus.

As scared as she was, her fear didn’t dampen her magicka. She dipped deep into that pool. Fire wreathed both hands. She brought them up to his face, and let go of the spell. He screamed out as fire licked his skin, scorching his eyes.

Immediately he let her go. She grabbed her dagger from its sheath at her belt and slashed at him. Her strike hit him, opening a gash in his tunic and drawing a line of blood.

“You’ll pay for that, girl. You will die and my sister will be reborn from your flesh.” He blathered on, most of it incoherent. “Star-scrying to the edge of the ice-mind… look to the lights where the souls dance… revealing the time when a spark will revive when the rotted unites under most skillful hands.”

Kirsli wasn’t sure what he was talking about. She also wasn’t sure why the man from the House of Curiosities was attacking her. She just hoped help would arrive. Where were all the damn guards? She’d seen plenty patrolling about the city earlier. Just like the ones in Riften, she scoffed. They were never around when you really needed them.

She wasn’t sure what to do. If she stayed here until help arrived, he could possibly overpower her. Her magicka wouldn’t last long and she wasn’t very good with her dagger. On the other hand, if she ran he may not follow her. Or he might get away and then some other girl might fall victim to his ravings.

Kirsli backed away, tripping over a tombstone. She threw her dagger at him, cursing as he deflected it easily. She had fire which she threw at him with both hands.

A clamor of heavy boots sounded on the stairs leading down into the graveyard. Kirsli screamed out for help again. With the arrival of the tall ebony armored man followed by a couple Windhelm guardsmen, Kirsli’s attacker fled toward the houses of Valunstrad. The ebony clad warrior gave chase, following him to Hjerim.

However, Calixto didn’t make it inside the empty house. He was cut in two by the battleaxe the ebony clad man wielded. He left the corpse on the doorstep, knowing the guardsmen would want to search it.

Returning to the graveyard, he leveled a knowing look upon the guardsmen. “I think that was the one Viola has been calling The Butcher. Hard to believe it was Calixto, though. I always thought him odd, but I never thought he was a killer.”

Kirsli sank down on one of the marble graves. She shook uncontrollably. Tears flowed freely down her face, dripping off her chin.

She had survived.

~*~

The man who rescued her introduced himself as Kristof, though most of the guards called him Ice Veins. He was tall, had broad shoulders, and was very attractive. His face was unlined, suggesting he was probably somewhere in his twenties. His hair was shaved on the sides, with multiple small braids on the top. The rest of the length flowed down over armored shoulders to his waist.

He led her to the palace after giving the guards orders to take the body to Helgird at the Hall of the Dead. The man really didn’t deserve to be entombed next to the cities’ honored dead, but that would be up to Ulfric to decide.

“Ice Veins, I thought I gave you something to do. Why do you bring these children before me?” Ulfric demanded. He stared down from his throne at the man who had become indispensable to his cause. Thin lipped displeasure shone on his handsome face.

“Begging your pardon, my Jarl, but the Butcher is dead. I caught him in the act of attacking this young woman here.” Kristof bent down on one knee before Ulfric, adopting a dutiful posture.

“The Butcher? How can you be sure?”

“When he grabbed me, he was babbling about his dead sister. He recited some kind of verse.” Kirsli spoke up. She met his gaze boldly before glancing down at her to her feet.

“Who is he?” He had a perturbed look on his face. He leaned forth, his eyes boring into Kristof.

“Calixto Corrium, my Jarl. What would you have done with his body?”

Ulfric rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The families of his victims will demand recompense. Have his home searched thoroughly. I want undeniable proof he was the Butcher. If it is true, his body is to be taken to the Bloodworks and burned, as befits a murderer.”

Kristof brought his fist to his chest, saluting Jarl Ulfric before he started to walk away.

“Before you go, Ice Veins, see Jorleif for the posted reward for capture of the murderer. You’ve earned it.”

Kristof inclined his head, “I may have been the one to kill the man, but I believe the reward goes to her.” He motioned at Kirsli. “She fought him off with weapon and fire, giving us the chance to rescue her. She is one brave young woman.”

Ulfric turned his attention to Kirsli. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen _you_ in my city before. What brings you here?”

Kirsli licked her lips nervously. She wasn’t ready for the full scrutiny of the Jarl.

“My name is Kirsli. I’m from Riften,” she replied softly. “I’m just visiting. I needed to buy a special dress.”

He eyed her curiously. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I did, but I didn’t think I’d end up almost killed. I thought Riften was dangerous.”

“Did you come alone?”

“No, I came here with Balimund, the smith from Riften. I’m his… ” What should she call herself. His ward? Cook and housekeeper? Apprentice. Someone who longed to spend a lifetime at his side as his wife. She scoffed inwardly. That would never happen. He claimed to not want her, but she was sure he had lied. She had felt his arousal more than once. Even if all it was only physical she knew it existed. But that wasn’t something she could blather to the Jarl. “I’m his apprentice. He’s training me to be a blacksmith.”

“Where was he that he wasn’t around when you were attacked?”

Kirsli shrugged nonchalantly. She didn’t want to put her pain on display for the Jarl. He didn’t need to know Balimund had turned her down in order to bed a tavern wench. “At the inn. I wanted to see more of your city so I went out for a walk and found her. She’s an orphan. What I did not expect to find was a serial killer.”

A small smile flirted with his lips before he pressed them into a thin line. His eyes hardened. “My men have been stretched thin with the war. It is unfortunate that your impression of Windhelm will be forever colored by this. Considering you were able to fend him off long enough for Ice Veins to arrive, I commend you and offer you a place amongst the Stormcloaks. We have a need for brave souls, true daughters of Skyrim such as yourself.”

One of the large palace doors flung open. Balimund came rushing in, his eyes wild with panic.

“Kirsli!”

His voice boomed through the hall. He hustled his way up to her, grabbing her shoulders. He looked her up and down, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the bruising on her neck. “Who did this? Are you hurt?”

Kirsli snorted. Now he was concerned about her. He hadn’t seemed too concerned about her welfare when he neglected to look for her. Oh no, he was more concerned with bedding the wench. Her teeth clenched. She pulled herself from his grasp. There was a part of her that longed for his hands on her, but not because of something like this.

“I’m fine, as you can see.” She tried to keep her composure, even though every bit of her wanted to send him back to the wench he’d been with. She clenched her jaw, hissing at him softly. “You stink of that whore!”

Balimund shook his head. He knew she wouldn’t let it go. She was just as angry as before. Even more so he suspected since it led to her being attacked. He knew she wouldn’t let him forget it.

“Are you the blacksmith she is apprenticed to?” Jarl Ulfric asked. He eyed them both carefully, taking note of their body language.

His response was terse. “I am.”

Ulfric rubbed his chin, still sizing up the situation before him. “She is the kind of fighter I am looking for to join my army. She’s young, full of zeal and courage. With the right training, she could go far, maybe even become like Ice Veins, one of my trusted officers. Surely seeing Skyrim free of Imperial rule is worth the loss of an apprentice?”

Cold fury flashed through the blacksmith’s eyes. He may spend his days pounding out weaponry that ultimately end up in the hands of Stormcloak soldiers, but he would not see Kirsli as one of them. He already gave enough.

Balimund looked about the room, his gaze halting upon a familiar looking war axe hanging off the belt of one of the guards within the hall. He motioned to the guard. “Hand me your weapon, son,” he spoke up, walking a half dozen paces over to the man stationed near one of the room exits. “I’ll give it back.”

The guard glanced from the man before him over to Jarl Ulfric, who slightly inclined his head, then back at Balimund. He offered up his weapon, allowing the smith to make his way back to Ulfric’s throne. He displayed it for the Jarl, pointing to an engraving in the steel. “This is my mark. My blood and sweat are poured into every weapon I forge. I think I give enough to your cause. I will not give up my apprentice.”

An impressed grin graced Ulfric’s face. “Then consider yourself fortunate you are Jarl Laila’s smith and not mine. You do good work. Keep it up and when I am the High King, you shall be rewarded for your contribution to Skyrim’s fight for freedom.”

Kristof came out of the nearby war room, holding in his grasp a good sized pouch. He handed it to Kirsli. “The reward for the capture of the Butcher. You should have it. And perhaps you would grant me permission to call upon you.”

Her throat went dry. “I would like that.”

A satisfied smile crossed her face. A very handsome man who wasn’t very much older than she had just expressed an interest in her. It was a pleasant end to a difficult day. Furthermore, two could play the game.


	15. Gravitas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirsli and Balimund have a serious heart-to-heart talk. Fluffiness ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write... I had so much trouble with it. I had so many ideas and none of the ones I thought would make it into the chapter actually did make it. The muse took off in a whole different direction. I think it turned out so much better! 
> 
> Inspiration for the chapter came from the song "Gravity" by Papa Roach. Hence, the title Gravitas (which means seriousness, solemnity in demeanor or treatment; importance).
> 
> Special thanks to my lovely beta, alyssacousland, who kept after me to finish this chapter. For all the chats, the words of encouragement, and just being there. 
> 
> Comments are appreciated!

Chapter Fifteen: Gravitas

~  
You love me You hate me  
You kiss me You break me  
You lifted me up just to watch as you dropped me  
You promised me – looked me straight in the eyes  
No matter what you say – I don't know the truth from the lies  
I held you up like I always do  
I forgave you for your sins and I carried you through  
No matter how hard we fall  
We always knew  
You will bleed for me, and I will bleed for you  
~ Gravity – Papa Roach feat. Maria Brink ~

~*~

Kirsli stowed the reward money in a small pack then headed for the palace doors with Sofie trotting along behind her. She just wanted to return to the inn. Sleep would be nice. She really didn’t want to listen to any excuses either, or anything else Balimund had to say at the moment. It did surprise her, however, when he followed her back to the inn.

Once in the room he’d rented for the night, Kirsli ushered Sofie into the small bed. The little girl looked as tired as she did. This was probably the first time in some time that she’d actually had a bed to sleep in. Kirsli didn’t mind. She knew she could help keep Sofie warm.

Balimund joined them in the room. The expression on his face suggested he wanted to talk to her, but there was nothing he had to say that she wanted to hear at the moment. She seemed content to ignore him. He could tell by the way she climbed into the bed and turned her back to him.

The presence of the little girl made him curious. Where had she come from? And just what did Kirsli intend to do with her? If the little girl was an orphan then the best thing for her would be to go to Honorhall. Hopefully she’d find a new family. According to Asbjorn, there had been several adoptions since Constance had taken over running the orphanage.

He exited the room for a short while. When he returned he had a cot. He placed it in front of  the door, blocking entrance or exit. If anyone wanted to get at Kirsli, they’d have to go through him first. The attack on her angered him. He hadn’t been there to protect her. All because he had chosen to take care of his needs for once. He knew what she would say when and if they talked about it. Fought about it, more than likely. She never would’ve been out at night in an unfamiliar city if he had taken her up on her offer. Yet he knew had he done so, things would be much worse. He just hoped she would see that… once she calmed down.

He wasn’t counting on it.

~*~

Breakfast proved to be a silent affair. When she did speak to him, her responses were short and clipped. Much to his surprise, she repaid him back the gold he had spent on the dress from the reward she was given. When he had said it wasn’t necessary, that he had wanted to buy the dress for her and he wanted her to keep the gold, she shot him a look that silenced his protests. It was more than obvious to him she wasn’t having any of it.

Once breakfast was done, they stood up to leave and since Sofie had turned into Kirsli’s shadow, grabbing at her tunic anxiously at times, Balimund followed behind them to the carriage which would carry them back home. He still wanted to talk to Kirsli about the little girl. Hopefully she would answer him in more than monosyllables, but the feeling in his gut told him otherwise.

He had been harsh to her. He knew that. What he had said had cut deep. It was for her own good. He didn’t know how else to convince her. She could do better, be more. He still believed she’d thank him in the long run.

_If only he could convince himself of that as well._

She was too smart. She saw right through him. She knew he had lied. It was his fault. He had given her too many mixed signals.

_By the grace of Mara, I hope she forgives me…someday._

He stole one last wistful look, burning into memory how she looked in this moment. His beautiful Kirsli, in full bloom. He’d hold onto it, keeping it close to his heart. He had a feeling what returning to Riften would bring. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

_It was for the best._

He shook off his melancholy and paid the driver the fare for the ride back to Riften. He noted how she sat as far as she could from him, on the opposite bench, keeping the little girl close. They talked amongst themselves. Mostly it was Kirsli pointing things out to Sofie, who couldn’t contain her excitement at seeing so many new things.

Passing by the tundra, Kirsli pointed out one of the large lumbering tundra dwellers. “Look at that, Sofie.”  
  
Sofie’s eyes widened in awe, “What is that?”

“That is a mammoth. Can you see its tusks? The giants carve symbols into them. I found a mammoth tusk once and gave it to Madesi. He’s an Argonian merchant in Riften who makes the prettiest jewelry.”

Sofie’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Why did he need a tusk? Is it jewelry?”

Kirsli laughed softly. “No, silly goose, tusks are made out of ivory and Madesi told me he could use it for the inlays on his amulets. Do you know what an amulet is?”

Sofie shook her head. “What is an am-u-let?”

“A special kind of necklace that is often enchanted with magic.” Kirsli concentrated for a few seconds, drawing from her magicka. She produced a small flame in her palm. “Like this.”

Sofie’s eyes grew as large as saucers as she stared at the fire, “Can you teach me to make fire?”

Balimund kept his smile to himself, but he was beaming on the inside. “Where did you find the little girl, Kirs?”

Her eyes flashed. _Oh, now he asks._ She wanted to ignore him, pretend she didn’t hear him.

“Begging.” She crossed her arms. “In the cold near the Grey Quarter.”

He rubbed his chin, his gaze softening. “Are you taking her to Honorhall? It would be best. You of all people know how rough Riften can be on the innocent.”

Kirsli rolled her eyes at his platitudes. Did he think her stupid? Or heartless? Of course she knew what Riften was like. She sneered in response, her words coming out in a hiss. “No, I thought I’d toss her to the Guild.”

“Kirsli!”

Anger painted her cheeks a bright shade of red. “Do not ‘Kirsli’ me in that tone! And quit treating me like a child. I’ve had enough of it. Sofie and I were talking. You didn’t need to stick your nose into it!”

Balimund pressed his lips into a thin line of disapproval. With one brow arched, he pinned a glare upon her. Yes, she was angry. There was a time and place for everything. Now wasn’t the time to air their dirty laundry.

He looked away, shaking his head. He wasn’t about to argue with her, not here.

The rest of the journey was spent in relative silence. For him, at least. Kirsli and Sofie chatted softly amongst themselves, though Kirsli made several furtive glances his way. He had noticed, though. He could feel her eyes upon her. He glanced her way and she quickly looked away, hiding the soft doe-eyed expression.

As soon as the gates of Riften came into view, he was ready to jump out of the wagon. He needed to put some space between them, if only for a little while. The inevitable blow up was coming. He could feel it in the pit of his gut.

~*~

Constance welcomed Sofie to Honorhall with open arms. She hugged the little girl and told her everything would be alright, then ushered her off for a warm bath and had a clean dress, new shoes and a hot meal ready for her when she was finished.

Sofie beamed a smile at the other children, who were all eager to meet her. Out of the ten children that lived in the orphanage before Kirsli had come of age, only Aventus, Hroar, and Runa remained. There were, however, new faces. Two sisters, Britte and Sissell, had come to Honorhall recently. Their father had died when a dragon attacked Rorikstead.

There was also a boy from Dawnstar, Alesan, whose father had been a sailor. Alesan ended up alone when his father had succumbed to a fever. He did odd jobs around the inn and for the ship captains who docked in Dawnstar, but it was never enough. He was always cold and hungry at the end of each day. Salvation had come in the form of a kind traveling merchant who brought him to Honorhall.

Before Kirsli left Honorhall, she hugged Sofie and promised she’d see her soon. Then she headed straight for the Scorched Hammer. Her stomach felt uneasy. She could feel it in her gut that _something_ was about to happen. Nervous energy had her shaking. She clenched her fists tightly to stop it. She knew Balimund would more than likely have a thing or two to say to her. She wasn’t sure she was ready for it, but she had to face it.

~*~

“We need to talk.”

The seriousness of Balimund’s expression left no doubt in Kirsli’s mind of what was to come. She nodded then excused herself long enough to change her clothes and splash some water on her face. She was stalling, delaying the inevitable. Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest.

_Just get it over with._

Butterflies danced in the pit of her belly. She wasn’t sure why she felt so… anxious. She wasn’t the guilty one, wasn’t the one who should apologize for her actions.

Or maybe she should.

Perspiration broke out on her upper lip.

_Just get it over with._

Maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe it would be. She’d never know until she faced it. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, desperately trying to calm her nerves. It was just Balimund… who meant _everything_ to her. Any condemnation from him would be too much to bear.

She found him sitting in front of the hearth, staring blindly into the flames. With no other place to sit, she perched herself on his lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, just as she had done so many times before. She then buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his masculine scent. His arms came around her, gently stroking her back.

“What are we going to do, honey?” His voice was soft and contrite. “You’re killing me. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Kirsli sniffled, desperately holding the tears at bay. “Why did you lie to me?”

He sighed deeply. He knew she would ask that. He thought he’d be prepared to answer. He thought wrong.  “I thought it would be for the best. You deserve so much more than what I could give you. You should have the world laid at your feet.”

“Humphf,” she scoffed as she looked him straight in the eyes. “I don’t want the world.”

 _You_ are my world. Why can’t you see it?

He touched her face, caressing her soft skin. He knew his hands were rough, and tried to be gentle as possible. “You think you don’t, but you have no idea what is out there. At least consider schooling. I want you to follow your dream to go the College of Winterhold.”

“That’s not the only dream I have.”

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, as several emotions assailed him.

Pride. Admiration. Love.

Despair. Longing.

Disbelief.

Doubt.

“Kirsli… honey… You don’t know what you’re asking. I care too much for you. I don’t want to hurt you.” He captured her chin in his grasp and ran his thumb across her supple lips. Need tore through him.

He was a fool to lead her on.

Yet he’d be an even bigger one if he let her get away.

Her dual colored eyes glittered with unshed tears. An ache filled the center of her chest. “You couldn’t possibly hurt me more than you already have. You run hot one minute and cold the next. It’s so confusing.  And I don’t know why? Why you felt you had to say what you said. Why you lied to me.”

She hiccuped as the tears spilled down her cheeks. He brushed them away, hating himself for causing them.

“I still believe you deserve better. You could be more. As for why I said what I did… I thought it would push you away, convince you to back off. Instead it nearly got you killed. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too.” His voice cracked and he looked away, adding guilt to the growing list of emotions he felt.

She licked her lips, “I shouldn’t have been out on the streets that late. I should’ve known better. I just couldn’t bear being around the inn knowing that wench had what I wanted, what I practically begged for.” More tears slipped down her cheeks. “You didn’t mean what you said, did you?”

He shook his head, “No, Kirsli. You are perfect the way you are and in a few years, I imagine you will be utterly breathtaking. You could have any man you wanted.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, brushing the long strands away from her bruised neck. He skimmed his fingers over the marks made by the Butcher’s stranglehold and imagined just how scared she must have been. “I doubt you care to hear it, and I won’t blame you if you get angry, but that whole evening all I could think about was you.”

Kirsli frowned. “Even during…”

“Especially during.”

She growled in outrage and punched his shoulder as hard as she could. He let out an ‘oof’ of surprise followed up by an ‘oww.’ “Then you shouldn’t have turned me down. And you shouldn’t have told me I wasn’t what you wanted. And if _it_ falls off, don’t come crying to me!”

He pursed his lips, trying not to laugh. She was a glorious spitfire.

“Honey, I apologize for hurting you, but even if I hadn’t made plans with Susanna, I still would’ve said no –” She started to interrupt him, but he placed a finger over her lips, shushing her softly. “Just hear me out. Nothing would’ve happened last night for the simple fact that I would rather wait until you are older, even if it’s a few years. I want you to experience life, see what’s out there and then if you still feel as you do now, we can make a go of it… whatever _it_ is. Sound fair?”

Kirsli shifted her position, moving from sitting across his lap to straddling it. She gazed into his eyes, noting the sincerity in them. _He meant what he said._ This wasn’t a lie. “Sounds fair,” she replied then rested her head on his shoulder. She wanted so much more, but this would suffice for the moment.

He embraced her, holding her tightly. He didn’t want to let her go. She felt so good in his arms. It had to be enough for now.

And in that moment, hope reigned supreme.

~*~

Aria arrived back in Riften a couple hours later, bringing two wagon-loads of furniture and home furnishings with her right up to the door of the Scorched Hammer. Balimund recruited Asbjorn and an off-duty Guardsman Sigfrost to help him, Kirsli and Aria unload and get it all into the house.

It took them a while to get everything in place, but when it was finished Balimund barely recognized the house he’d live in for many years. She had included woven wall hangings, wreaths, and lace doilies along with all the furniture. He and Kirsli both were gifted with feather beds. She brought a small dinner table with four ornately carved chairs. There was a fine china dish set, the likes of which a Jarl would use. Not to mention the silver tea set. She had replaced the ruined grindstone in the basement with a new one, and had set up a small shrine to Kynareth on a table in the main room. Aria had even brought him a new safe with an heavy duty lock so he could replace the one that had broken into.

Finally she gave him a large chest of raw materials, dragon bone and dragon scale, ebony and gold ore with a list of what she wanted for each housecarl. Full suits of armor, helms, a greatsword plus a longsword, war axe and shield made to match the armor.  She also promised that she’d bring Lydia to Riften so he could take her measurements for the armor as soon as her business in Riften was finished.

Balimund now knew why she gave him the amount of gold as she had for the commissions. There would be a hell of a lot of work involved. He was eager to work with the dragon bone, however. It would give him an edge over all the other so-called “best smith” in Skyrim.

~*~

Before Aria left and headed back to the Bee and Barb for the night, she sought Kirsli out. Finding her in the basement scrubbing dirty laundry in a basin, Aria softly cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry for bothering you, but I thought we could have a little chat.”

Kirsli glanced up at the Aria, a soft snort taking the place of the soft tune she had been humming.

“You probably think that you don’t want to hear anything I have to say, but all I ask is that you listen.”

Kirsli nodded reluctantly, pushing away from the tub full of warm water, lye soap and scrubbing board.

Aria took a few steps toward the younger woman, “I know you don’t like me, and I can’t say that I blame you. It’s obvious to me that you think I’m going to steal what is yours. Rest assured, I won’t. I think of Balimund as a friend, a good friend, and I’d like to be able to call you friend as well.”

“On our way to Windhelm, we saw a few of the Companions fighting a giant. Balimund said one of them was Farkas, your fiancé.” Kirsli commented softly.

“He saw Farkas? He didn’t tell me that,” Aria made a face. She missed Farkas very much and couldn’t wait to return to Whiterun. She wanted to hold him tight and kiss his handsome face before she dragged him off to a bed.

“I think he was with Athis and Torvar.” She flashed a thoughtful look.

Aria nodded, “Yeah, those are the whelps that Farkas usually takes out hunting. Vilkas prefers taking Ria out, but lately it’s been Ria and Njada. Or Njada will go hunting with Aela.” She let loose a wistful sigh. “You probably aren’t interested in hearing about the Companions.”

Kirsli bobbed her head from one shoulder to the other, “They sound interesting. Watching them fight that giant and some sabre cats certainly was exciting. Makes me wish I knew how to fight. It would have come in handy when I was attacked last night in Windhelm by a madman. They called him ‘The Butcher’ because he had killed a few other women.”

“A killer in Windhelm, you say?” Aria raised a finely sculptured brow and rubbed her chin. “I recall Vignar talking about that a while back. He had said a daughter from both the Cruel Seas and the Shatter Shields had been victims; that both families had lived in Windhelm for generations. I think Vignar was hoping the Companions would look into the matter since none of the city’s guards had a clue who was behind the killings. It’s no secret Vignar supports Ulfric’s side. I have cautioned him in the matter of his allegiance, reminding him the Companions are to remain neutral in the war. Ah, listen to me ramble on.”

Obviously Kirsli’s hint had flown right over Aria’s head, or maybe the Dragonborn had intentionally ignored her. She was determined, however. One way or another she’d learn how to defend herself. “So do the Companions teach unskilled warriors how to fight? Train them to be better.”

“Definitely, even the members of the Inner Circle train every day. It keeps our skills sharp.”

It was now or never. Besides it couldn’t hurt. Maybe even build some good rapport. “Balimund gave me a dagger for protection, but I really don’t know how to use it. Could you show me? I want to be able to defend myself.”

Aria gave her a wide smile. “I can, but there are a few things you need to learn first. Knowing when to fight is as important as knowing how. Learning to defend yourself is all well and good, but when you’re in a real fight, a life or death fight, you can’t second guess yourself. It’s either you or them. And on top of that, taking a life, whether they be innocent or not, is serious business. Once it’s gone, it’s not coming back and it’s a mark on your soul.”

Kirsli’s expression sobered as she struggled to understand the gravitas of what Aria had said. She knew there was a whole world of wisdom in those words. There was much that Aria had experienced as the Harbinger and as the Dragonborn.

“Balimund has said the same thing to me before, the knowing when part. Especially when I stray too close to Faldar’s Tooth.”

“You really should listen to him. The wisdom he’s gained has come from life experience. There is no better teacher than that. We can train a little bit tomorrow morning. Furthermore, I’ve heard you are interested in the College of Winterhold. I can help you get there if you’d like.”

Kirsli eyed Aria speculatively. “How so?”

“I can sponsor you to a finishing school, the very same one I went to, in the Imperial City. Once you graduate from finishing school, the possibilities are endless, if you do well. You could enroll in the Arcane University, or the College of Winterhold. Then if you’d like, you have a standing invitation to join the Companions. I think we would benefit from having a mage around. But that is only if you are interested.”

“I’ll think about it, the Companions part. I would, however, like to know more about the school.” Her face lit up and her interest piqued. There was so much she wanted to hear.

“The school is called Madame Aurelia’s School of Etiquette.”

Aria beamed. She had her. Hook, line and sinker…

~*~

Balimund decided to take both Kirsli and Aria out for supper at the Bee and Barb. It had been quite the day so far and knew a fitting end would be to spend it with two women he greatly cared about. Talking to Kirsli had taken a great weight off his mind and chest. He felt happier getting it out in the open.

She was happier as well. When she smiled it was breathtaking. He knew it would all work out for the best. She was now considering attending the finishing school Aria had spoke of. And the two of them were getting along well.

Something was right for once.

Talen-Jei placed their meals on the table, bidding them a pleasant evening. Just as Balimund was about to tuck into his food, he noticed Farkas step into the inn’s common room. He smiled knowing Aria was in for a surprise. He didn’t want to ruin it for her.

The Companion made it halfway across the room before Aria turned around in her seat. She squealed and hopped out of her seat, meeting him in the middle of the room and throwing her arms around him. “FARKAS!”

He lifted her up off the ground, spinning her around, before bestowing a passionate kiss upon her. “I missed you, love,” he murmured against her lips. “Where’s your room?”

Aria grabbed up her plate and drink then led Farkas upstairs. It was very clear to both Kirsli and Balimund they wouldn’t see Aria for the rest of the night.

Balimund leaned in, “Looks like it’s just the two of us.”

Kirsli grinned, chuckling softly. “You won’t hear me complain.”

He covered her hand with one of his, caressing it softly and this time he didn’t care who saw or heard them. Let the gossips wag their tongues. He was through pretending.


	16. Fulfillment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirsli gets what she wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter I have to label NSFW, for underage sex, lots of heavy petting and frottage. Oh, and also fluffiness. 
> 
> I also want to say thank you so very much to everyone who has read, lurked, commented and given kudos, who have taken this journey with me and Kirsli. I appreciate all the comments and the kudos. Feel free to leave me feedback. Let me know if you are enjoying the story so far, what you like, what you don't like and anything I could do to make the story better. 
> 
> Special thanks go out to my best friend and awesome beta alyssacousland for all the encouragement and for always being there! Love ya!

Chapter Sixteen: Fulfillment

After Kirsli and Balimund finished their meals, he escorted her home. It had been a long tiring day on many levels and all he wanted to do was relax. He also knew they’d be just as busy tomorrow, which was Loredas. Keerava and Talen-Jei’s engagement party would be held at the Bee and Barb in the evening. Before then he planned to get a start on Aria’s commissions. He wouldn’t spend the whole day at the forge, just a few hours in the morning and early afternoon.

He knew he’d have to speak to Aria. With her fiancé present in Riften, he figured he wouldn’t be her date to the party. That freed him up to take Kirsli, which he knew would please her. Kirsli had mentioned Aria had promised to spar with her in the morning. He could talk to her then. Hopefully Farkas had brought the pelts. He would have Kirsli cure them as another lesson. They could then be turned into very nice fur cloaks, which he could sell for a decent profit.

Once he’d locked the house up for the night, he took a seat in front of the fire to relax. Kirsli joined him, sitting on his lap. He flashed a smile at her as he wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head against his shoulder, sighing softly.

“What’s on your mind, honey?”

Kirsli shook her head before yawning, “I think the day has caught up with me. That feather bed is calling my name. I just don’t want to get up.”

“That could be a problem, Kirs.”

“You should carry me.”

He chuckled, “I see how you are. What do I get if I do?” He had to tease her. It was probably wrong, but he just couldn’t stop himself.

Kirsli rolled her eyes mirthfully. They twinkled in amusement.  She tossed his words back at him. “Is that how it is? I see how _you_ are.” She nuzzled her face against his neck, planting a kiss just below his ear.

Desire coursed through him. He bit his lip to stifle a moan. Teasing her was a bad idea. He wanted what he couldn’t have too much.

She seemed to know what he was thinking. “Fine, you don’t have to. I guess that’s why I have legs and feet, to walk there on my own. And here I was about to offer you a massage.”

Balimund stood up, lifting her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He placed her on the feather bed then sat down on the edge. “Make you a deal,” he winked. “I’ll let you sleep here in my bed with me tonight if you rub my shoulders. Sound fair?”

“Oh, so that’s why you carried me in here, huh? Is that your nefarious plan?” Kirsli giggled as she wiggled her eyebrows. She did want to sleep beside him again. What she didn’t want was to sound too eager. That always got her in trouble.

Balimund let loose a boisterous laugh. “Nefarious?” The laughter sobered after a few moments. “Ah, honey, I would never take advantage of you. You know that. What can I say? Having you next to me the other night felt good. It felt right.”

Kirsli’s heart pounded in her chest, sending her blood racing willy-nilly, only to settle into a pool of heat in her loins. She gazed at him with that soft doe-eyed look in her eyes. There was so much she wanted, that she dared to hope for. That he had allowed her to be this close and wanted more in the future was more than she had ever expected. It made her want more _now_. It made her bold.

She pushed herself to her knees, kneeling behind him, and rested her hands on his shoulders. “Let’s get this tunic off of you then. It’ll be easier for me to work.”

He raised an eyebrow, mirth dancing in his eyes as he held in a laugh. “If I said that to a female, I’d end up getting slapped for my trouble.”

She giggled, “Well, I won’t slap you.”

Balimund let loose the laugh he’d been holding and removed his tunic, tossing it onto the small dresser nearby. He positioned himself face down on the bed, groaning softly as she straddled his buttocks. What he wouldn’t give to be on his back with her straddling his hips?

Kirsli went to work on his back, kneading his shoulder muscles, working out the knots before moving down his back. He let out a grunt as she found a few tight muscles between his shoulder blades. But it felt wonderful as she worked her lower palm into his flesh, relieving the ache.  She moved lower still, down his spine to his hips, finding more tightness in his lower back. She worked them out, but not without eliciting more grunts and groans from Balimund.

Her ministrations, however, caused another ache. He bit his lip, groaning, as his cock had hardened to the point where he swore he could hammer nails with it. Not that he’d want to, though. He’d be more inclined to pound it into her. He gritted his teeth, willing it to go down.

Kirsli, who had been listening to his every noise, guessed what was going on. She pressed her body flush to his back, brushing his hair back from his ear. “Let me take care of you,” she murmured softly.

Balimund closed his eyes, moaning softly. Her offer put him in a difficult position. As much as he wanted to say yes, he knew it would be wrong. She had to keep pushing. He knew she wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted. “Kirsli, we−”

“Shhh, I want to. It’s what we both want. Just let me take care of you. It doesn’t have to go any further than that.” The softness of her voice and the sincerity in her eyes made him believe her.

She slipped from his back, allowing him to roll to his side. He propped up his head with his hand, watching her like a hawk. She licked her lips, moving closer to him, as butterflies fluttered in the pit of her belly. _It’s just Balimund_ , she repeated over and over in her head. She had been so self-assured a moment ago. Now she wasn’t so sure what she should do. She’d had a couple bastards sate themselves upon her body, but this went beyond anything she’d experienced.

“What’s wrong, Kirsli?” He murmured. He noticed her hesitation. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll be fine.”

She worried her lower lip between her teeth, “I want to. I just… I don’t know what you like.”

It warmed his heart and aroused him even more that she wanted to please him. “Ah, honey.” His voice dropped an octave to a low purr. He grasped her hand, bringing it up to his lips, and planted a kiss on the back of it. “It can wait. Let’s just get some sleep.”

Disappointment flooded her features. She thrust her lower lip out in a pout. Her petulance only served to arouse Balimund further. He groaned aloud, shifting his position until he lay flat on his back. Kirsli knew if anything was to happen, she’d have to let go of her uncertainty. She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. Then she went for it.

She pulled her tunic over her head, tossing it to the floor then she wiggled out of her trousers, throwing them to the floor also. She straddled his thighs and rested her hands against his shoulders. As she leaned in, her long hair fell around her like a curtain. The ends brushed his chest, tickling it softly. Balimund groaned, feeling like he was about to explode.

Kirsli quivered, her nipples hardened like dagger points. Wetness soaked her smallclothes, tingling and leaving her breathless. She bucked her hips, grinding into his erection, eliciting a moan from both of them.

“Kirs,” he managed through the heavy panting. “Lift up, sweetie.”

He knew he wouldn’t last long. He had wanted this too badly and had denied himself for far too long. He swore, though, the next time would be a whole different story. He’d have her beneath him, writhing and screaming, fingernails shredding the bedding from the passion pumping through her.

She obliged him quickly, allowing him to push his trousers down his hips. Once he had kicked them off, she settled back into position. Only their smallclothes separated bare flesh. He caressed her as gently as he could, running his hands up and down her back before settling on her hips, directing her movement. She writhed against him, her breath coming out in gasps. Her nails dug sharply into his shoulders. He hissed at the pain.

His cock jerked, ready to burst out of his smalls, nudging against her thighs. He thrust up against her, drawing her down to his chest. He captured her lips, bestowing upon her a passionate kiss. He parted her lips, letting his tongue slip inside. She tangled her fingers in his hair, kissing him back.

He removed her breastband, tossing it aside. Her bare breasts sprang free and his piercing gaze dropped to them. Growling, he licked his lips and grasped the soft spheres with a gentleness that made her feel cherished. His work worn hands curved around her pale flesh, his thumbs flicking over the pink nipples. They tightened to hard points and gooseflesh rose on her creamy skin. He wasted no time, wrapping his lips around one of her nipples. The tip of his tongue traced it lovingly, then he sucked it into his mouth. She reveled in the fact that this man, who made her ache with a mere glance, now sucked on her sensitive nub. She cried out, feeling her wetness soak her smalls. Her heart beat so hard and so fast, she feared it might burst through her chest.

Never before had Kirsli felt like this. She shuddered from head to toe as passion surged through her body. He continued licking and sucking her nipple until it became so sensitive that every swipe of his tongue sent waves of pleasure through her entire body.

“Balimund,” she cried, writhing against him. Boldly, she ran her hand down his body, moving it between them and slipping inside his smallclothes. She closed her fingers around his cock.

Balimund moaned as an expression of pure pleasure filled his handsome features. He buried his face in her cleavage as his member pulsed in her hand. Kirsli stroked him, marveling at how long and thick he was. She could barely get her fingers around him. His cock jerked in her grasp. He panted, murmuring her name.

He rolled her flat on her back, putting her beneath him before ripping her smalls off of her as well as his own. He settled into the juncture of her wet thighs, hooking her legs over his shoulders. Kirsli slipped her hands up his arms, her fingers digging into the thick muscle of his biceps. She could feel him trembling, the thick muscle that ran from his shoulder to his neck twitching beneath her calves. His chest heaved, the solid wall of muscle grazing the hard tips of her breasts with every breath.

Balimund grunted and groaned. Kirsli panted and moaned. Their bodies pressed together in a sweaty dance that pushed all rational thought from their heads.  Kirsli’s flesh was swollen, her engorged lips and sensitive clit grinding against Balimund’s thick cock. She had never felt such pleasure before, her need spiraling out of control. He captured her lips, sucked on her tongue, the shaft of his cock rubbing her clit as he rutted against her. She jerked, and stiffened, as pleasure peaked, her nails drawing blood.

He kissed her roughly, his tongue invading her mouth. His hips pistoned, his cock rubbing against her more vigorously. Heat raced through his veins like fire, scorching him, urging him to take more. Balimund ground against her, beginning to shake in her arms. “Kirsli, honey,” he murmured. “I’m gonna …”

He cried out then, his hard body shaking and trembling with the force of his orgasm. At the gush of his seed against her belly, Kirsli moaned loudly. Her eyes slammed shut as stars fell behind her eyelids. She held him tightly, feeling him shudder.

The room was silent but for the sound of their harsh breathing. Balimund held most of his weight off of her with his forearms, but Kirsli could feel him shaking with the effort. She kissed the hard line of his jaw and he groaned.

“Honey,” he whispered as he lay on his side and drew her against his chest.

“Hmmm,” she murmured softly, snuggling against him.

“If this keeps up, you may be the death of me,” he chuckled as he pulled the blankets over both of them then closed his eyes, allowing sleep to claim him.

~*~

When Kirsli woke the next morning, she was alone in the bed. She rubbed her face, feeling disheartened to not find Balimund next to her. She had hoped to wake up still in his arms. She pushed herself into an upright position, softly moaning at the tingle emanating from her nether parts. The night before had been so glorious she wanted a repeat this morning. He’d finally kissed her, touched her in the most delicious ways. And she had done the same to him. Nothing could be better than that… Well, almost nothing. There was much she hadn’t experienced with him.

And as much as she wanted to be a lay-about, she had too much to do today. Aria had promised to teach her a few things about fighting. She also wanted to visit Sofie. Not to mention getting ready for the party this evening. A frown crossed her face, dampening her excitement. She still didn’t have a date. She supposed she’d have to finally pick from one of the men who’d asked her, providing any of the offers still stood.  She didn’t want any of them, though.

She perked up as she heard footsteps coming into the room. She rested against the headboard and pulled the blanket up to cover her breasts. A smile broke out on her face as she saw Balimund. He sat on the edge on the bed beside her. He was holding a tray full of food.

“Good morning, honey,” he said softly. “I thought you might like breakfast in bed.”

Kirsli gazed down at the plate he’d brought her, feeling warmth course through her as he placed a kiss on her brow. Her mouth watered at the sight of the bowl of porridge and snowberry scones before her. She dug in, humming at the taste of cinnamon and nutmeg in the porridge. Her eyes lit up and her smile widened. “I love it.”

“There is also a bath waiting for you downstairs. We probably should’ve cleaned up last night before falling asleep, but I was too tired to move.” Warmth filled his eyes as he watched her eat.  “I’m not going to second guess what happened. I regret nothing. It was beautiful. You are beautiful. I guess it took me longer to see what you knew all along.”

“So I won’t say I told you so,” she snickered, pride shining in her eyes. “I will say, however, I was a little upset when I woke and you weren’t beside me. This makes up for it. It’s delicious.”

He smiled, “I wanted to treat you. You’ve taken such good care of me since you moved in here. It’s the least I can do, sweetie. Besides I want this to be a wonderful day for you. That said, would you do me the honor of being my date for the party tonight?”

Kirsli’s face lit up brighter, “Yes!” She dropped her spoon and threw her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. She drew back, pursing her lips, “But what about Aria?”

He chuckled, “I spoke to her a little while ago. We agreed it would be for the best if we broke off the date. Farkas is escorting her. And there is no one else that I’d rather have at my side, honey. Just you.”

Kirsli’s heart soared with happiness. This was the best day of her life… so far… and she didn’t want it to end.

~*~

Balimund outfitted Kirsli with a suit of studded leather armor he’d made specifically for her and gave her a beautifully crafted elven dagger he’d also made. She squealed when she laid eyes on the pieces, hugging and kissing him.

Aria met up with Kirsli at the forge, dressed in her wolf armor. Farkas was with her, wearing his wolf armor as well. “Jarl Laila is graciously allowing us to use the keep’s training yard for this morning’s lesson. Of course that could be because I just purchased Honeyside and filled her coffers with a large sum of gold. So why don’t we get to it?”

Farkas cleared his throat, gaining Kirsli’s attention. "I hope you brought a weapon with you. We can teach you, but know this. The weapons you have are _real_ , and we will always use real weapons for your training. You cannot learn how to fight when you don't have to fear getting hurt."

Aria started by showing her the basics, working her through weapons forms. Then she showed her how the dual wield the daggers, as well as a dagger in one hand and a spell in the other.

Aria and Farkas put her through her paces, instructing her on the proper way to block, parry and feint.

“You’re doing great, Kirsli.” Aria nodded approvingly. "Now, what I want you to do is practice with the training dummy over there. It's not as easy to hit as it seems. Try to land ten solid blows on it."

"I’ll do my best!" Kirsli beamed, and moved to stand in front of the practice dummy. She gripped both her daggers in her hands, testing the feel of their weight. They didn't feel too heavy for her or too light. She focused on the combat form before her, and her mind flickered through a series of images until it came to rest on one particular image.

She swung with all her might, envisioning Maul standing before her. The blade sliced through thin air, missing the dummy by mere inches. She growled in frustration and tried again to no avail.

_What am I doing wrong?_

"Focus, Kirsli, focus." Aria shouted from the sidelines. "Harness your fury and direct it into your strike. You are far too easy to read. You are projecting your aggression and if you were facing a real opponent, he would be able to guess your next move just by reading your body language. Now try again."

Kirsli sucked in a deep breath and stood before the dummy. She tried her best to follow Aria's words and swung her dagger. To her surprise, she landed a solid blow against it. The impact of the strike rattled her momentarily, but she recovered quickly.

"One!" Aria called out, beginning the count. Kirsli swung again, hitting the dummy, causing a chip of wood to fly off. "Two!"

It took several more minutes and many cries of frustration before Aria had counted to "Ten!"

Kirsli sucked down in deep breath as she walked over to Aria.

"Perseverance, Kirsli. Stick with it and you will garner the results you want. You did well. That was no easy task." Aria praised her. “We can train again tomorrow morning. Maybe if you feel confident enough, you can spar against one of us.”

"Thank you," Kirsli replied, favoring her wrist. There was a lot more to learning how to fight than she wielding a blade or magic. It was much more physically demanding than she ever would’ve guessed, and yet warriors like Aria and Farkas made it look so easy. “I’d like that.”

“Good. It’s a pleasure to teach.” Aria smiled. “If you’d like, I can come over before the party and help you fix your hair. I also have cosmetics as well.”

“I would like that.” She stowed her daggers then skipped off, heading back for the Scorched Hammer. She changed out of her armor, dressing in a pair of trousers and a tunic. She then headed to Honorhall to look in on Sofie.

The little girl fit in nicely, playing jump rope in the small yard with Britte and Sissell.

“I know it’s only been a day, but how’s she doing?” Kirsli asked Constance quietly as they watched all the children play in the yard. While the girls jumped rope, Asbjorn was busy with the boys building a fort.

“She’s settled in quite well. After she’d eaten and bathed, she immediately started playing with the other girls. They played with their dolls for most of the evening.” Constance replied. “I’m glad you brought her to me. The thought of her being out in the cold… No child should have to go through that.”

“I’m glad I found her. I knew she’d be better off here.”

~*~

A couple hours before the party began Aria met Kirsli at the Scorched Hammer, bringing with her a knapsack. “Now let’s get you ready for this shindig. When I am done with you, that handsome smith out there won’t know what hit him.”

Aria took her time, brushing out Kirsli’s silky red hair, twisting it into a sleek chignon. From her pack she removed a silk and lace set of smallclothes, complete with garter belt and stockings from Kirsli to wear beneath her new dress. “A lady should always have pretty underthings,” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, eliciting a grin from Kirsli.

She helped Kirsli into the underthings before artfully applying the cosmetics to enhance Kirsli’s natural beauty. Then assisted her getting into the gorgeous gold dress she’d purchased in Windhelm. Lastly, she slipped into a pair of dainty shoes with a small heel and added the jewelry that matched the dress.

“You are so pretty. Balimund won’t be able to peel his eyes from you.” Aria predicted. “I hope you have a great time tonight. Now I have to get ready. I’ll see both you and Balimund at the Bee and Barb. Afterwards, both of you are invited over to Honeyside. We can, perhaps, have a few drinks on the back porch overlooking the lake. It’s a pretty view.” Then she left the Scorched Hammer, whistling a happy tune. She had a good feeling about tonight.

~*~

“You ready to go, Kirsli?” Balimund called out from the front room.

She drew in a deep breath, willing her heart to stop racing. She was ready, had eagerly anticipated his reaction. She opened the door, stepping out.

His breath hitched in his throat. “Kirsli honey, you are a vision. So beautiful,” he murmured before lowering his lips to capture hers. The soft kiss lasted for what seemed like an eternity. Kirsli sank into his embrace, loving the feel of his strong arms surrounding her. He groaned against her mouth and pulled back. “We’d better go before I get too carried away.”

His reaction was everything she had hoped for. Nothing could dampen her spirits tonight. She had everything she had ever wanted.

~*~


	17. Celebrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirsli and Balimund attend Keerava and Talen's engagement party. Aria and Farkas tie the knot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter practically wrote itself. The words just flowed... 
> 
> It is also NSFW for underage sex. If you'd rather not read the smut, just skip over the scene at the third break. 
> 
> A screenshot of Kirsli in her party dress can found [here](http://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/Images/609436/?).
> 
> Huge kudos to alyssacousland for all the help and encouragement and awesome beta skills!

Chapter Seventeen: Celebration

Kirsli accepted Balimund’s proffered arm, allowing him to escort her across the short distance from the Scorched Hammer to The Bee and Barb. Outwardly she was the epitome of poise and grace, but on the inside she was a mess of nervous energy. At the door of the inn, she sucked in a deep breath.

Balimund took notice of her demeanor. “It’ll be alright, Kirsli.”

“I know it will. I, I just… don’t know how to dance. It’s not exactly something taught in an orphanage.” Her voice was soft, unsure.

“I’ll show you how. It’s easy to learn. You’ll be fine, sweetie. C’mon, let’s have a good time.”

She pushed aside her anxiety, and flashed a brilliant smile. “I guess I should remind myself that I’m with you.”

He opened the door, ushering her in with a rather possessive hand placed on the small of her back. Most of the townsfolk were already there. Well, the ones that had been invited. Kirsli glanced around the room. The Black-Briars, save Ingun, had not been invited. Nor had Brynjolf. The Snow-Shods were present, as was Mjoll and Aerin, looking rather happy together. Bolli and Nivenor were present, currently conversing with Drifa and Bersi. Haelga preened from the arm of Hofgrir. Haelga’s niece, Svana had come with Shadr. Brand-Shei, Grelka, Romlyn, Marise, Valindor, Tythis, Ungrien, Wujeeta, and Madesi all mingled around the room. Dravin and Synda Llanith had come as had Leonara and Addvild from the Snow-Shod Farm.

Aria and Farkas stood near the happy couple, Keerava and Talen-Jei, who were dressed up in their finest clothing. It seemed Keerava was showing off the ring Talen had given her, the very same one Aria had supplied the amethysts for.

Entering the inn behind them was Jarl Laila. Accompanying her were her two sons, Harrald and Saerlund as well as her steward, Anuriel and housecarl, Unmid Snow-Shod.

Kirsli’s face brightened when she caught sight of Constance and Asbjorn standing near the bar. She grasped Balimund’s hand, leading him over to them. She immediately hugged Constance. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Constance returned the hug. “Look at you, Kirsli. You look amazing. And that glow,” she cast a sideways glance at Balimund. “It’s about time.”

Balimund grinned happily. He knew the gossips would have a heyday with this little tidbit. He could care less what they said at this moment. Both he and Kirsli were happy.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to make it,” said Kirsli as she leaned against Balimund’s side.

Constance smiled. “Ah yes, we thought we wouldn’t because it would the children without supervision, but as it turned out, my friend, Unna, who is a member of the Riften Guard, was off-duty tonight and volunteered to watch them for us. We can’t stay very long, but it’s nice to be able to get out once in a while and mingle with other adults.”

Asbjorn nodded in agreement. “Between helping her with the kids and helping out at the forge, there hasn’t been time for much else. This is a nice diversion.”

Balimund chuckled, “Welcome to adulthood, son. Wait till you get married.”

“As if you would know,” Asbjorn shot back with a grin, elbowing Balimund.

Balimund rolled his eyes at his adopted son’s jab, “All in good time.”

Asbjorn smirked, his eyes flicking over to Kirsli, “Just don’t make her wait too long, old man.”

Balimund laughed loudly, “I might be old, but I can work circles around you, pup. Whenever, wherever.”

Kirsli and Constance glanced at each other, snickering, “Men!”

Balimund grinned at Kirsli. “Cheeky lass,” he quipped. “Let’s go mingle, shall we?”

~*~

As the party hit full swing, toasts were made to and by the happy couple and the dancing commenced. Both Kirsli and Balimund had no shortage of dance partners, though most were only interested in finding out what was going on between the pair. The questions were met with vague answers, keeping the gossips guessing, and most likely fabricating wild stories. There were a token few who knew the truth, though they were mum on the subject.

When he wasn’t dancing with Kirsli, or anyone else, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He watched her every move, pride shining in his eyes. There was warmth also. And desire. She was the most beautiful woman in the room and everyone knew it.

She returned to his side after a dance with Farkas, grinning ear to ear. “I know a secret,” she chimed in a sing-song voice.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, “And what might that be, honey?”

She made a smooshy face, wrinkling her nose, and giggled, “If I tell you, it won’t be a secret.”

He flashed puppy dog eyes at her, “I can keep a secret.”

“You’ll find out later.” She giggled. “Dance with me.”

“Let me check my dance card.” He held his hand up in front of him, pretending to be checking a list. “Ah, you’re in luck. Looks like I’m free for this go-round.”

He escorted her to the middle of the room as the minstrels began to play a slow song. They were joined by many couples, but Balimund only had eyes for Kirsli. He held her close, leading her in the slow waltz. He twirled her around. It made her feel light-headed. Sometimes she missed a step, and giggled at her folly. At least she didn’t step on his toes.

When the dance ended, he escorted her to the refreshment table and handed her a glass of Arenthia Red. She sipped it slowly, her head swimming from the wine and the dancing. After she finished her drink, she grasped his arm and led him back to the dance floor.

This song was more upbeat, allowing them to dance the Allemande, followed by a minuet. Then there was a Round, in which everyone joined in.

Afterwards, Kirsli excused herself for a moment. She needed some fresh air.

“You are the talk of the town. You know that, right?” Aria said as she joined her. “I tell ya, if looks could kill.”

Kirsli shrugged, “Let them be jealous. I don’t care one bit about any of them.”

“Good for you. I’d feel the same way if I were in your shoes, Kirsli. Balimund is quite the catch.”

Kirsli chuckled, “As if you aren’t getting married to an equally great catch. Farkas told me the secret and I am so thrilled for you. So what made you to decide to get married tomorrow?”

“We had planned to have to ceremony in Whiterun, at Jorrvaskr. A friend of mine, Erandur… he’s a priest of Mara that I helped awhile back… he agreed to marry us. We still plan on having that ceremony, but when Farkas showed up here last night I told him I didn’t want to wait any longer. That I wanted to marry him now. Maramal agreed to do the ceremony first thing tomorrow morning. I hope you’ll come. Both of you.”

“I’m sure I speak for Balimund when I say we wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Kirsli hugged Aria tightly. “Thank you, Aria. I know I haven’t always been nice to you. I couldn’t see past the jealousy I felt. I want to apologize for my behavior, for hitting you after those assholes wrecked the house. It wasn’t your fault.”

Aria smiled, her eyes alight with happiness. “I don’t hold any of that against you. I understand perfectly. I’d have done the same if I had been you. In fact, I have in the past. We aren’t all that dissimilar. He’s a good man and I’m happy for you.”

Kirsli smiled. She glanced up, noticing Farkas standing at the door. He joined them, wrapping his arms around Aria. “There you are, love.” He planted a kiss on her cheek then nodded his head toward Honeyside, “I’m ready to go home anytime you are.”

“Is that a hint, Farkas?” She chuckled, snuggling back against him.

“Yeah, the only way I could make it less subtle would be to toss you over my shoulder and carry you off.”

“That would be something.” Aria laughed. “Maybe it would give the gossiping bitches something to talk about besides Kirsli and Balimund. I think they’d be positively scandalized.”

Kirsli giggled at the picture in her head, “No, they’d be positively scandalized if Balimund tossed me over his shoulder and carried me off. I think that would set Riften on its ear.”

“Wouldn’t it, though?” Aria quipped. “Feel free to join us at Honeyside. We were, after all, planning a nightcap on the back porch. I have just the thing for it, too.”

“I’ll go get him and we’ll be right over.” Kirsli smiled and headed back inside the inn. She made her way across the room, finding Balimund standing by the bar with Hofgrir. She noticed right off his stony expression, his lips drawn into a thin line. There seemed to be a problem.

Balimund crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“You broke my nose. You could at least give an honest answer to my question. Or would you prefer to be called a hypocrite?” The stable master charged, pointing his finger at Balimund.

Balimund rolled his eyes, “Takes one to know one. That still doesn’t make it any of your business. I’ll tell you one thing, though. If you ever touch her again, I’ll do more than break your nose.”

Kirsli rested a hand against his arm, her gaze flicking over both of them. “Aria and Farkas have headed over to Honeyside. She said we could join them at any time. So how about we go?”

Balimund smiled at her, “Sounds like a plan, honey.”

With a parting glare at Hofgrir, Balimund led Kirsli away. They stopped to say their goodbyes to Keerava and Talen-Jei, expressing their congratulations one last time. Then they headed for Honeyside.

~*~

Aria broke out the Spiced Wine, pouring them all a glass. Kirsli raised her glass, proposing a toast. “To your impending nuptials tomorrow. Here’s to many years of happiness.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Aria smiled as she drained her glass. Farkas, Kirsli and Balimund joined her.

“Is that the secret you wouldn’t tell me?” Balimund cocked an eyebrow at Kirsli.

“Yep!”

Balimund wrapped his arms around her, gingerly tickling her sides. She giggled, bucking in his arms. “I’m happy for both of you. We’ll be more than happy to act as your witnesses.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Aria replied.

“Yeah, we’d be honored if you were there with us.” Farkas added.

Balimund gazed out at the lake, “I’m glad you bought this place. It’s been empty for years now. It’s good to have you owning it, and not someone from the Guild or one of Maven’s toadies.”

“The Jarl said she’d bestow the title of Thane on me if I completed a certain task for her. I guess there’s a skooma operation going on in Cragslane Cavern that she’d like to see shutdown. She had hoped with Sarthis dead that would take care of the problem, but as she feared, someone else stepped in and took over the operation. She fears it’s all linked to the Guild. She is well aware of my vendetta against them, and hopes to root out who’s behind it all.”

Farkas frowned, shaking his head. “And I say you’re playing with fire, love.”

“She’s had some of her spies infiltrate the operation, as gamblers. Not only is it a skooma operation, but they have pit fights involving wolves. Much like the one’s at Faldar’s Tooth. It’s abhorrent. They need to be shut down.”

“And you won’t hear me disagree about that. I just think you need to let this feud with the Thieves’ Guild rest. It’s already cost us Kodlak. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

Aria cupped his face with her hands, “You won’t, my love. I’m the Dragonborn, remember? It’ll take a hell of a lot more than that rabble to take me down. We’ve fought much worse.” She kissed him softly then glanced back at Kirsli and Balimund. “We’ll be back in a few minutes. Have some more wine and enjoy the view.”

Kirsli rested her head against Balimund’s shoulder. With the heels on, she could easily tuck her head in the curve of his neck. “Go on. We’ll find something to preoccupy ourselves with.” She winked at Aria. It was nice to have Balimund all to herself for a moment. No crowds, no prying eyes, no gossipmongers. Just the two of them with the light from the two moons dancing upon the surface of Lake Honrich.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling against him. He kissed the crown of her head before lifting her chin. He captured her lips, kissing her tenderly. He wanted more, deepening the kiss, urging her to open her mouth under his insistent lips, their tongues meeting. The kiss that he planted on her was a kiss that shook her to the core. It wasn’t particularly hungry or passion filled, but soft and sweet - the kind of kiss lovers, who cared deeply for each other, shared.

Kirsli loved being held in Balimund’s strong arms. He was so big and solid, even smelled good too – manly, and just plain sexy.  “You don’t think that they’ll miss us if we just head home?” She ran her fingers through his hair. She had plans of her own in mind.

“I doubt it, honey. Shall we?”

~*~

“I need to wash off the cosmetics off my face. Give me a few minutes?”

Balimund nodded at her, watching as she headed into her own room, before he entered his own. He smiled as he thought of the night’s events. It felt good to be with her in front of everyone they knew. He figured by now most had guessed what had taken place between them. It mattered not what they thought.

He had wanted to wait until she was older, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt what would happen once they climbed in bed. He wanted her, needed her. There was no denying it.

He slipped out of his finery, stripping down to bare skin. He then sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for her to join him.

And much like when he saw her earlier in her gown, his breath hitched in his throat, his mouth dry and his erection hardening.

She came to him with her hair brushed out, the length of it covering her bare breasts. At her waist she wore a silk and lace garter belt with garters attached to silk stockings. The delicate creation framed a mound of red curls.

He licked his lips, unable to take his eyes off of her. She was so beautiful. She blushed demurely under his gaze, as pale pink colored her skin. He pushed himself up from the bed, holding a hand out to her. She accepted it and moved into his embrace. He captured her lips, bestowing upon her a needy kiss.

Balimund lifted her into his arms and placed her on the bed.  Lovingly he stroked her body, running his hands down her supple skin, caressing her flared hips before dropping lower to skim across her belly. His fingers skirted the top fringes of her mons before sliding upwards to trace the rounded curves of her breasts. He plucked her nipples, listening to her sharp intake of breath. Slowly he teased her, arousing her until he felt her blossom under the sensual movements of his fingers.

He caressed her, softly whispering sweet words. He covered her body completely, taking her mouth in a passionate kiss. Kirsli writhed beneath him, her small body sparking a white hot flame against him. Balimund moaned, encouraging her to touch him. She wrapped her arms around him, plunging her fingers into the thickness of his hair.

His mouth moving lower, he burned a trail of heat down her body. She writhed as he nipped her tender nipples. How glorious it felt as he sucked each before moving lower still, seeking her hidden treasure.  He molded his hand against her mons, separated her lips then explored, thrusting his fingers into the heated cleft he found within.

As if of their own volition, her hips bucked in time with his probing fingers as she moaned loudly. Capturing her mouth, he kissed her hotly, his tongue snaking in then out as he plundered her moist channel.

Fleetingly as he broke the kiss, he glanced down at her half-closed eyes and pouting lips. His heart soared at the sight. Her flushed appearance served to magnify her beauty. He knew the Divines had truly blessed him. Continuing his passionate exploration, he attacked the taut bud of pleasure, nestled within her downy curls, with intense longing. He ravaged her senses, sending wave after wave of pleasure careening through her. Kirsli cried out, her moans of pleasure bouncing off the walls, creating a cacophony of splendor. Relentlessly he took her higher, pushing her senses to the limit. He brought her to a heart-stopping climax, reeling over the crescendos of bliss. Kirsli screamed, raking her nails down his back while her body shook from the aftershocks of passion. A hiss slipped from Balimund's lips before he pulled away, rising to his knees.

His cock swelled, throbbing as it reached full size. Kirsli opened her eyes then gasped. He murmured soft words, drawing her into a seated position as he cradled her head against the swell of his chest. His member loomed powerfully against her flushed skin. She eyed it curiously as a blush crept into her cheeks. Kirsli watched as he grasped her hand, guiding it to his throbbing length. It was soft as velvet yet hard as steel, hot to the touch, she moaned as he ran her hand up then down the hard length. He tossed his head back, moaning loudly, "Feel what you do to me," he groaned with a strained voice. There was no mistaking the look of sheer pleasure on his face. Balimund drew back the hand that covered hers, letting her explore him. She fondled him with exquisite care until his body jerked with absolute need of her. He groaned low in his throat, feeling his passion grow. Balimund pulled away; coaxing her back upon the blankets then cradled his body between her slick thighs. He touched her, plundering her core until she writhed, exploding a second time.

"Balimund, I need you!" Kirsli exclaimed, her voice raspy, sensuous.

Momentarily ignoring Kirsli's impassioned plea, Balimund sought the sweetness within the juncture of her thighs. He slipped a finger inside her, bringing her to a hip jerking frenzy with his coaxing ministrations. Then he guided his shaft to her quivering sex, pushing into her wetness. Her wet walls clenched around his steely length, caressing exquisitely, as he thrust deep. He stoked the fires of her passion; his long strokes intensifying. His urgency to please her rocketed as he felt her hips move with his… synchronized.

Reaching down, he wrapped her legs around his waist, lowering his hands beneath her bottom, pulling her into his deep, tender strokes. A cry of pleasure shot from her lips. With each thrust, he took her higher, spiraling upward in a heady exodus of soul bonding rapture. Suddenly, her world exploded sending her flying across the heavens as she cried out.

Balimund's own cry of release mingled with hers; he collapsed atop her, shuddering as his violent climax battered her channel.

They lay silent for what seemed like an eternity. He cuddled her, shifting to her side as his embrace enveloped her. She sighed softly, snuggling in his warmth. "I love you," she whispered.

"And I love you _,_ honey, _"_ he replied.

Kirsli snuggled closer, sighing happily as she closed her eyes. Her dreams were full of wonder, hopeful visions of getting everything she wanted. The heart of the man she loved, a home and eventually, a family.

~*~

The next morning, Kirsli surprised Balimund with breakfast in bed. They snuggled together, feeding each other bites of food. It made for a glorious morning. And it had only just begun. They dressed in their finery once more, though Kirsli left her hair long, letting it flow down over her shoulders. She washed her face one more time, removing any leftover makeup. Part of her wished for some kohl to line her eyes with, though. She liked how she had looked with it on.

They met up with Aria and Farkas outside of the temple. They were both beaming with happiness.

“I trust everything is well?” Balimund spoke up, referring to last night’s discussion.

Farkas smiled, “There’s nothing to worry about, friend. We worked it out.”

Aria giggled as she leaned against her husband to be, “Everything is perfect. Though, I almost thought I wouldn’t be able to walk this morning.”

Balimund chuckled, shaking his head. “I didn’t need to know that, but I’m happy for you.” He had to laugh, though. Kirsli had expressed something similar this morning, claiming she felt boneless. To her credit, she remained quiet, but flashed a certain look at Aria.

“I don’t know about you, but I am so ready to do this! C’mon, Farkie, let’s go get hitched!”

Once inside the Temple of Mara, Kirsli and Balimund sat in the very first pew while Aria and Farkas took their places before the altar. Maramal joined them, standing in front of the statue of Mara. He cleared his throat before beginning the ceremony.

“It was Mara that first gave birth to all of creation and pledged to watch over us as her children. It is from her love of us that we first learned to love one another. It is from this love that we learn that a life lived alone is no life at all. We gather here today, under Mara's loving gaze, to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship. May they journey forth together in this life and the next, in prosperity and poverty, and in joy and hardship. Farkas, do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?"

Farkas leveled a loving smile upon Aria as he took her hands in his, “I do, now and forever.”

“And Aria, do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?"

Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her rosy cheeks. She squeezed his hands, “I do, now and forever.”

"Under the authority of Mara, the Divine of Love, I declare this couple to be wed. I present to the two of you with these matching rings, blessed by Mara's divine grace. May they protect each of you in your new life together."

Aria and Farkas exchanged rings, slipping the gold band onto each others' fingers.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest smiled.

Farkas swept Aria into his arms, lifting her feet off the floor, hugged her tightly and planted a passionate kiss on her upturned lips. He held her against him lovingly, whispering words of love against the mouth he had just kissed.

Both of them thanked Maramal and headed, arm in arm, to the door. It was time to start their honeymoon.

As Kirsli and Balimund followed them out, Maramal stopped them at the door. “It is always wonderful to see love blossoming. I would be most pleased to perform a wedding ceremony for the two of you, when you’re ready, of course.”

Balimund raised an eyebrow, “Is it that obvious?”

“If one knows what to look for, yes. I am a priest devoted to the Goddess of Love. Her light tends to illuminate all the loving couples within her fold. It was plain to see the moment you both walked into the temple. You have been truly blessed by her divine grace. I look forward to sanctifying your union.” The priest explained.

“So Mara wouldn’t be displeased by the fact that I am so much younger than Balimund.” Kirsli ventured in a soft voice.

“No, not at all. Mara believes that the spark of a union comes from inside us. Love is ageless, transcending all. It is a beautiful gift to be shared with one another. You are fortunate to have found each other, to recognize the love you feel with each other,” Maramal replied.

“Thank you, Maramal. We’ll keep in mind what you’ve said.”

~*~


	18. Crucible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crucible- a difficult test or challenge or a place or situation that forces people to change or make difficult decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter isn't for the faint of heart. It contains graphic content that is NSFW. Graphic rape and violence toward women. Also more graphic violence and character death. 
> 
> Huge thanks to alyssacousland for being the bestest best friend and beta reader. For all the encouragement, hand holding, and chats. I wouldn't ever want to do this without her!

Chapter Eighteen: Crucible

Balimund stripped out of the fine clothes he had worn to the wedding and reached for the clothes he worked in. As he pulled the tunic over his head, he noticed Kirsli entering the room. She lounged on the bed, watching him. He noted she had also changed clothing also, putting on a pretty blue and white dress.

He bestowed upon her a warm smile. She bloomed under his gaze, slipping off the bed and into his arms. “I kept telling myself it would be better to wait until you were older, but it seems I can’t keep my hands off of you,” he murmured softly against her hair. “What Maramal said has me thinking about the future.”

She went up on the tips of her toes, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, “Same here. It’s odd to find acceptance from a priest and not from people who’ve known you for years. That’s their problem and not ours. We have found happiness, and if they can’t be happy for us, then to Oblivion with them.”

Balimund grinned, “Damn right. Though, we really need to take a good look at the future, Kirsli. I still want you to go to school, experience life, and not give up on your dream. I’ll always be here for you. Nothing will change what I feel for you.”

She hugged him as tightly as she could. As much as she loathed the thought of being apart from him, she knew he was right. It just meant she’d have something good to come home to when her schooling was done. She looked up into his eyes – By Dibella, he had sexy eyes, bedroom eyes,  eyes that smoldered and left her aching and weak in the knees – and smiled. She licked her lips, “I want to go to the school Aria told me about. There’s so much I want to learn, but –”

“No buts –”

The look she gave silenced his rebuttal. “Hear me out first before you cut me off. We weren’t very careful last night. I’m not so naïve that I don’t know where babies come from. I’m not saying it’ll happen, but it is a possibility. I’ll be more careful. I can brew a potion that’ll suppress fertility. Hafjorg will help me.”

“That is a valid point, honey. We’ll both be more careful. I can say I got too carried away last night, but that doesn’t change the fact I should have considered it since I’ve been the one expressing how you should go to school and not settle down yet.” He held her tighter, lifting her feet off the floor. It brought her to eye level with him. “But say you do end up with child, I won’t abandon you or it. I meant what I said last night. I love you, Kirs, and I would be the happiest man alive to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Good to know,” she planted a kiss on his cheek then sighed. “I should probably let you get some work done. Didn’t you say you wanted to work more on those commissions for Aria?”

He nodded in affirmation, “I started work on the ebony war axe yesterday. I plan to finish it and start on the ebony longsword and shield. I have the sabre cat hides Farkas brought me that I want you to cure. I had planned on making them into cloaks.”

She grimaced, wrinkling her nose. “Well I had planned on going over to Honorhall to help Constance. I’ll send Asbjorn to cure the hides.”

Balimund shook his head, “No, Kirsli, there are other things I need Asbjorn to do. You get the hides. I’d appreciate if you started on them today.”

“Okay, I will, but then I’m heading over to the orphanage.”

It surprised him that she didn’t argue with him or try to get her way. He kissed her softly, set her to her feet and headed out to the forge.

~*~

Kirsli spent the next several hours salting then scraping the hides, removing fat, flesh and tissue. Then she rubbed them down with oil to soften them. Her next step was drying them on the rack. She took one on the tanning rack outside and the other on the rack in the basement. She’d be able to smoke them tomorrow.

At that point she washed up, fixed a late lunch for Balimund. When it was ready, she headed out to the forge. His focus was on the war axe, shaping its blade. He glanced up at her when she placed her hand on his forearm. She kissed him on the cheek, “Lunch is on the table. I’m heading over to see Constance. I’ll be back after bit. Be thinking about what you’d like for supper.”

“Pie,” he grinned, winking at her. She chuckled as she walked away. Oh how she loved that man.

Constance had sent the children out to play while she balanced the books. She sighed as she entered the numbers. Things were tight, not as bad as it had been while Grelod was still alive, but she’d have to be careful. Donations had been steady for a while, and it helped that there weren’t as many children as there had been before Grelod died. She wanted to make sure she could provide her charges with the kind of care they deserved. She hadn’t liked it when Grelod watered down the milk or only fed the children once a day. It had disheartened her to be party to that. She had promised the children those things would never happen again.

She set the ledger aside when she noticed Kirsli standing in the doorway to her office. “What’s wrong, Constance?” Kirsli asked. She had been standing there for a few minutes, noting the worry on the other woman’s face.

“Just finances. It’s nothing for you to be concerned with,” Constance replied then hopped out of her seat. She led Kirsli to the trestle table where the children ate their meals. “I had hoped you’d stop by. You have to fill me in on what happened with you and Balimund? You are still glowing. I hope it was everything you ever hoped for.”

“And then some.” Kirsli chuckled as a blush covered her cheeks. “He told me he loves me. Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear that?”

“Oh, Kirsli. I am so happy for you,” Constance smiled, wrapping her up in a hug. “He is a good man.”

“Aria and Farkas asked us to be there with them for their wedding. It was beautiful. I have to tell you what Maramal said to us after the newlyweds left.” Kirsli leaned in and repeated the earlier conversation.

Constance joined Kirsli in a squeal. “I think that settles it then. How soon are we going to be hearing wedding bells? Oh please tell me you’ll want me and Asbjorn to be there for you like you will be for us next week.”

“You will be, but it’s not going to happen anytime soon. We are going to wait. I am going to a finishing school for a formal education, because I want to attend the College of Winterhold. Aria even said going to this school could help me get into the Arcane University, if it was something I was interested in. “

“That’s in Cyrodiil, the Imperial City, oh Kirsli…” Her eyes went wide, her brows disappearing into her hairline. “I miss Cyrodiil sometimes, but I could never give up what I have here. The children and Asbjorn… You have a chance to make your dream come true. I am so happy for you.”

“I am looking forward to it, but moreover I am happy knowing when I’m through with school, he’ll be here for me. That doesn’t sound selfish, does it?”

Kirsli chewed on a fingernail, fidgeting in her seat.

“No, it doesn’t. It sounds to me that he is thinking about you. It shows how much he cares.” Constance took hold of Kirsli’s hands. “You’re lucky to have found that. I get the feeling he’s waited a long time for this. So I imagine he feels you’re worth it.”

Kirsli got up from the table. She nodded her head. “This morning when we woke up, he told me about Siv, someone he really cared about when he was younger. She died before he could ask her to marry him and since then he’s avoided getting close to anyone. It explained much.”

Constance nodded in agreement. “I remember when I came to Riften years ago to work here. He spent just as much time working at the forge as he does now. His dedication to his craft and to raising Asbjorn right was and still is admirable. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more talented smith. It warmed my heart when I learned he had taken you in. I knew then you’d be alright. I had worried so about you, being on your own on the streets of this hellhole of a city.”

Kirsli pursed her lips, trying not to think about all the bad that had happened to her while she was on the streets. “I was lucky.” She shook her head. “I’d rather not relive any of that. Balimund promised I’d never have to go through any of that again. Oh and Aria started to teach me how to fight my daggers yesterday. It was hard, but I felt so good afterwards. I hope the training resumes after she and Farkas have their honeymoon.”

Constance glanced over at the mantle clock as it chimed the hour. “I should probably think about starting supper for the children.”  She entered the pantry with Kirsli right behind her.

“Oh, what if I was to help you make smoked salmon and baked potatoes? Doesn’t that sound delicious? I can go to the Fishery and get fresh salmon.” Kirsli asked, turning away from the shelves  to glance back at Constance. “I think I may even have to get enough for home, too. I told Balimund to be thinking about what he wanted to eat, but he gets so wrapped up in his work that he forgets.”

Constance chuckled then smiled at her, “That does sound delicious. The children will love it. Same goes for Asbjorn. Bolli has been giving me a discount since it’s for the orphanage. Let me get you the gold.”

Moments later, Constance came back with a coin purse. “This should be enough.”

Kirsli pocketed the purse and headed for the docks.  She smiled, waving as she passed by Balimund, who was busy at the forge working on one of the weapons Aria had commissioned to go with the suits of armor. He returned the smile, waving back. With a dreamy sigh, she kept moving. She didn’t want to spend too much time at the docks. Just go to the fishery and then back to the orphanage, she told herself. 

She quickened her pace as she rounded the corner of the Meadery, heading for the short set of stairs leading to the Fishery. A startled yelp slipped from her lips as something, someone grabbed her from behind, slamming her into the rear wall of the Meadery.

“Where ya goin’, ragamuffin?” Maul growled. He pressed into her, his larger body covering hers. He gripped her forearms, holding her in place.

“Let go of me, Maul.” Kirsli retorted through clenched teeth, struggling to get free.  She stomped on the instep of his foot, cursing vehemently because she left her daggers at home.

He gritted his teeth against the pain and retaliated. He removed one of his hands from her arm, bringing it up and punching her in the mouth. The force of the blow caused her neck to snap back and bounce off the rough wooden wall. She cried out in pain. Maul jerked her toward the rear door of the Meadery. Kirsli kicked and fought, desperately trying to get free of him. She screamed as loud as she could before he clamped his hand over mouth and nose. She knew what was coming, knew what he had on his mind. She muttered Balimund’s name, praying he’d heard her scream and would save her.

Opening the door, he shoved her inside. A lecherous grin crossed his face.

“You _belong_ to me, bitch.”

Maul threw her to the floor before delivering a brutal kick to her ribs. Kirsli screamed as she felt bones breaking. He grabbed her by the hair, dragging her all the way to the cellar of the Meadery, her cries of pain, cries for help echoing through the building.  However, Maul was utterly unconcerned about how loud she was or how much she fought. He knew Maven had all her workers, including Indaryn, at her house assisting with the reconstruction.

When fire she produced in her hand licked his skin, he let go, delivering another punishing kick. This one caught her chest, knocking the wind right of her.

“Fucking cunt! You’ll pay for that!”

He yanked her up from the floor, slamming her back into a wall as hard as he could. He followed it up with several punches to the face, this time blacking her eyes and bloodying her nose.

“Stop, please!” She managed before his next punch to her ribs made it difficult to breathe.

Maul grabbed her dress and yanked, ripping it open from the neckline down. He tore the ruined garment off her body, flinging it across the room before doing the same to her breastband. He flashed a lewd leer as her breasts popped free of their bindings. He groped her pale orbs roughly, pinching her nipples hard.

Kirsli could do no more than whimper. Her whole body ached. Deep breaths proved to be impossible. She could barely see out of either eye. She tried to draw upon her magicka to cast another fire spell, but found she had none left.

He moved to her smalls next. He ripped the scrap of cloth away, exposing her curly red mound. He yanked her legs apart, slamming his fist into her belly as she tried to kick him. She grunted, crying silent tears. Where was Balimund? Hadn’t anyone in the docks area heard her scream?

Steel gauntleted fingers invaded her tight channel. He pumped them in and out. Pain and fear, however, kept her dry. He covered her, sinking his teeth into one of her nipples, cruelly biting her. “I saw you last night with that fuckin’ iron pounder. I watched the two of you together, watched him put his hands on you. Did you let him fuck you, ragamuffin? Did you enjoy it? I see the marks he left on your skin. He may think you’re his little bitch, but he’s wrong. You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. I swear to you when I’m through with you, he won’t want you anymore. No one will.”

Maul hastened to remove his steel armor, tossing the pieces aside. Then rolled her over, forcing her onto her hands and knees, positioning himself behind her.

Her head lolled limply against the rough plank floor without any strength in her arms to hold her up. One hand gripped her hips tightly, his fingers leaving behind dark bruises on her pale skin. With the other, balled into a fist, he repeatedly clubbed the back of her head and upper back, inflicting more punishment on her with the force of his blows.

Consciousness waned, plunging her into a world of darkness, a safe haven from the abuse he visited upon her.

“Fucking weak ass bitch!” He hissed before attempting to shove his cock into her passage. As tight as she was, the head barely breached her slit. He pulled out, spitting into his hand. He fisted his cock, slicking the head and shaft, and tried again. This time he managed to penetrate her just a smidge deeper before it was too painful to go any further.

Snarling in frustration, he pulled out a second time before leaning down to spit on her slit. He worked his fingers in and out, just enough to open her. Then he pushed in for the third time, this time filling her to the hilt. He held her in place, his hips flush against her ass, before he began to move, slamming in as hard as he could.

He fucked her hard and fast, snapping his hips against her. His fists delivering more blows to her head, ribs and back, pummeling her relentlessly. He grunted as he came, quickly pulling out, shooting his seed onto her upturned bottom.

He flipped her over, smashing a fist into her jaw while the other connected with her ribs one final time. She didn’t move, didn’t make a sound.

He reached for his armor, donning it hastily. He then grabbed up her torn dress, grinning as he heard the jingle of coins. Fishing one out of the pouch, he pried open her mouth and shoved the coin down her throat then pocketed the rest. “There ya go, a coin to pay the ferryman when he hauls your dead ass off to Oblivion!”

Maul chuckled, dragging her back up the stairs. He stepped out the back door of the Meadery and tossed her body into the lake below. He moved his hands back and forth against each other, as if he was washing his hands… free of her. The insignificant bitch meant nothing to him.

The fish could have her for all he cared.

~*~

The wood elf, Valindor, rounded the corner of the Fishery, humming what in his mind was an epic rendition of “The Dragonborn Comes.” He stopped dead in his tracks as Maul came out of the Meadery, carrying a bloody and battered naked female with long red hair. He heaved her into the water below, smirking as she sank. Valindor watched, alarm coursing through him, as Maul rubbed his hands together then went back inside the Meadery.

Valindor immediately dove into the water, swimming down after the body. Dread filled him as he got closer. _Don’t let it be her_ , he repeated over and over again, a silent mantra that echoed through his head. Even though she had turned him down when he asked her to go to the party with him, he felt no ill will for her. It was more than obvious who she wanted to be with after seeing them together at the party. The blacksmith was a lucky man to have her.

He wrapped one arm around her body, pulling her to him as gently as possible, and kicked off the muddy bottom of the lake. He swam to the surface, his strong kicks propelling him to the adjacent shoreline of Lake Honrich. As he pulled her up onto the bank, he noticed the Argonian, Wujeeta, had joined him.

He flashed a grave look at her. “She’s not breathing. Let Balimund know and fetch a healer from the temple.”

He watched as Wujeeta raced off toward the main gate. Turning his attention back to Kirsli who was turning blue beneath the layer of bruises. Prying her mouth open, he swiped his fingers inside. He felt the blockage at the back of her oral cavern and grabbed hold of it. Confusion burrowed his brow as he saw what it was. A septim? He tossed it to the ground then rolled her to her side, lightly thumping on her back.

She still wasn’t breathing and he feared she’d crossed over into Aetherius. Where was that healer? Hurry, Wujeeta, he mentally fretted. Hurry.

He knew he couldn’t save her on his own.

~*~

Constance wrung her hands, hurrying toward the Scorched Hammer. She could see Balimund at the forge, but Kirsli hadn’t returned. Worry coursed through her. Please let her be here, she silently chanted. She didn’t want to imagine the alternative.

Balimund glanced up from the war axe he’d been shaping, his gaze falling upon a very harried looking Constance, who stood a few feet from him. Apprehension poured off her in waves. “What’s wrong, Constance? Has something happened at Honorhall?”

She shook her head frantically, “Is Kirsli here? I sent her to the fishery for fresh salmon, but she hasn’t returned.”

Balimund tossed the weapon he’d been working on into the trough. He’d seen her earlier when she’d passed by him, but he’d yet to see her come back. Fury and fear tore through him, seizing his heart in a stranglehold, mentally transporting him back to another beautiful young woman he hadn’t been able to save. He’d be damned if he failed Kirsli.

Wujeeta ran through the market, hysterically calling his name. “Valindor sent me to get you. It’s Kirsli. He pulled her from the lake. She’s not breathing. ”

His heart plummeted in his chest. Red hot rage filled the void. And he knew… knew without a shadow of a doubt… what had befallen her.

Maul.

He ran to the city gates as fast as his legs would carry him. Passing by the stables, he headed for the shoreline, frantically scanning the area for her. Once he had Valindor in his sights, he ran to him.

“No no no no NO! KIRSLI!!” He bellowed, kneeling at Kirsli’s side. He quickly catalogued the damage to her body. Her skin was a patchwork of livid bruises, her face a bloody pulp. “GODS-DAMMIT! WHO DID THIS? DID YOU SEE?”

“Maul. He tossed her into the lake, like she was garbage. I managed to get her to breathe. I feel a weak heartbeat, but she needs a healer or I fear she won’t last much longer!”

Balimund’s face turned an even brighter shade of red. “I’LL FUCKING _KILL_ THAT BASTARD!” He lifted her into his arms, mindful of her injuries, and carried her to the gates, where he was met by Maramal, Dinya and Briehl as well as Nura Snow-Shod.

The Redguard priest gasped at the sight of her and ordered Briehl to run ahead of them to prepare a bed for Kirsli. He knew she had a long recovery ahead of her, if she recovered at all. Scarcely had he seen injuries so bad outside of a battlefield.

Once they’d made her comfortable, Maramal turned to Balimund, “I know you want to be here, but I must ask you to step back for a moment and allow us to work. I warn you, though, our skills may not be enough to keep her out of death’s cold hands. It’s something you must be ready for.”

“NO! I refuse to accept that! She can’t die. Tell me who can help her if you can’t!”

Maramal sighed heavily, glancing over at his wife Dinya. He didn’t want to give Balimund false hope. It was clear to him that she wouldn’t make it through the night, let alone long enough for them to bring in help. “The only person I know is Danica Pure-Spring at the Temple of Kynareth in Whiterun. She’s the most powerful healer in Skyrim.”

Aria stormed into the Temple, “I just heard what happened. How bad is she? How can I help?”

Balimund turned to her, “How fast can you make it to Whiterun?”

Aria licked her lips as she mulled over his words, “A few hours with aid of a shout I know. You need Danica, yes? It’ll take longer to get back, though, but I have a couple swift horses.”

He hated interrupting her honeymoon, but she was the only person who could make it Whiterun fast enough to save Kirsli.

“Make haste then. Divines be with you, Aria. I owe you.”

~*~

As much as Balimund hated to leave Kirsli’s side, he knew he’d only be in the way of the priests healing her. Besides he had business to take care of. Rage and regret boiled beneath the surface. He should’ve taken care of Maul months ago. Had he followed through on his promise that the two-bit thug would get what was coming to him when he had said it, Kirsli wouldn’t have had to suffer what she had at his hands today. This time he wouldn’t make that same mistake. The bastard was as good as dead.

He left Maramal, Dinya and Nura to do what they could for her, praying it was enough to sustain her until Aria returned with the Priestess of Kynareth. He glanced over at the manor house being constructed; noting Maul wasn’t at Maven’s side. Hopefully that meant the blighter was still at the Meadery. He headed to the docks.

Balimund found Maul leaned up against the wall of the Fishery, puffing on a pipe. His hair looked wet and he wore a dark tunic and leather pants. One side of his face was blistered, suggesting it had been singed with fire. At least Kirsli had tried to fight back, though he figured it had made the bastard hurt her worse.

When the younger thug caught sight of him, he tossed his pipe and ran, heading for the Meadery. Immediately Balimund gave chase, catching him just before Maul got the door open. He grabbed a handful of hair, jerking Maul away from the door, and slammed him face first into the rough plank wall.

Maul jerked out of Balimund’s grasp, grunting as he felt some of his hair yanked out.  He grabbed for the sword at his belt and pulled it out. He swung, but the blacksmith managed to evade the attack by dodging out of the way.

Balimund cursed aloud, raising a foot to kick the younger man as hard as he could. He jerked the sword from Maul’s hand, giving it a quick once over. It was shoddy work, not worth the iron it was forged from. Scoffing, he gripped it in his hands and slammed it over his knee, exploiting a weak spot. It snapped in half, then he threw the broken pieces into the water.

Maul blanched, jerking the door to the Meadery open. He ran inside with Balimund hot on his heels. The younger man raced all the way down to the basement of the Meadery, frantically searching for a backup weapon. When he couldn’t find one, he turned to face the blacksmith.

Rage twisted Balimund’s facial features and he lunged at the thug, his meaty fists clenched tight, but Maul was ready for the attack. A flying elbow connected the blacksmith's midsection followed up by a pulverizing uppercut to the face. Fists lashed out and Maul hissed as he was thrown to the ground. Balimund pounced, straddling his core, punches flying like his life depended on every ounce of drawn blood from the thug's body.

"I’ll make you pay!"

Maul threw Balimund off, his booted feet catching Balimund in the head. Blood poured from a gash above Balimund's eye and a split lip as he elbowed Maul hard in the solar plexus. Maul grunted and caught Balimund in a chokehold and slammed him down, knocking the wind out of him. The two combatants wrestled around for several minutes, kicking, punching and slamming each other into the floor. Balimund broke free of Maul's hold and kipped up to his feet before the thug could hit again and slugged Maul hard across the face, adding a brutal kick to the groin. Maul bellowed out loud as his eyes watered. Shrugging off the pain, Maul in return landed a brutal punch to the blacksmith’s mouth, splitting his lower lip wider and forcing his two front teeth through the upper one. Blood ran down his face and Balimund retorted by breaking Maul's nose. Balimund's muscles coiled, readying another hard slug as he punched him hard in the stomach and drew back a hard uppercut fast just shy of breaking Maul's jaw, releasing tangy blood down his five o'clock shadow.

With a feral howl, Maul bullrushed the blacksmith and threw his shoulder into Balimund's midsection, driving him back to crash into a stack of mead  barrels. A groan slipped from Balimund as a few of them splintered on impact. He could feel the embedded wood digging into his muscles. Maul held Balimund there, landing heavy blows to his middle and groin. Balimund groaned and brought his knee up hard, connecting with the mouth and chin of the thug. He threw himself forward, landing on Maul and pinning him down to the floor. Playing dirty, Maul summoned a ball of lightning to his palm and pressed it to Balimund's face. He howled in pain and grabbed a handful of hair belting Maul across the face so hard that sent him reeling. Balimund punched, Maul blocked; he countered, Balimund dodged. And so the dance of death continued with neither standing still for long, adjusting and modifying their attack to bring the most damage to the other.

"As tight as the little ragamuffin was when I fucked her earlier, you must have an awful small dick." Maul taunted as he landed pulverizing hits upon Balimund's face, again and again. Pain rang in his ears, and he bit his lip to keep from showing it. "Is that why you spend so much time pounding away at the forge?"

The two continued, swinging, blocking, and lunging. And soon they were back to circling each other. Maul swung once more, but Balimund dodged it and grabbed hold of Maul, knocking him hard against a wall. Balimund became relentless, grasping a fistful of hair to slam Maul into the wall repeatedly. Blood bubbled out from Maul's mouth and nose when he tried to breathe. He felt Balimund's hands leave and made a move to strike. Maul caught Balimund's arm with his free hand, slamming his elbow into the side of Balimund's face, and at the same time letting go, allowing the bigger man to topple onto the floor.

Balimund looked up just in time to roll out of the way and dodge Maul's foot before it connected with his ribs. Groaning, he sprang to his feet, once more at the ready, and lunged again, once more meeting Maul's fist. He ignored the pain and swung with everything he had. The thug quickly blocked and pummeled Balimund in the ribs with hard, punishing blows.

With blood and sweat stinging his eyes, Balimund let out a bellow and threw a crushing punch into Maul's bloodied mouth. His neck cracked as his head snapped back at the force of it. He staggered and went down on one knee. Sparkles of light exploded before his eyes and he shook his head to regain his equilibrium. Fury gripped him even tighter and he lunged at Balimund, his fist tangling into the bloodied blond locks while planting his other fist firmly into his ribs once more. Bones snapped, cracking grotesquely, and Balimund let out a howl of sheer pain. Before he could think twice, Maul threw another punch at him, hammering the already bruised and cracked ribs, but he was quick to retaliate, despite the pain. He went for the low blow, bringing his knee up into the thug's groin and before another moment passed, he landed a hard blow to the gut. Maul groaned and staggered, clutching his balls as he nearly blacked out from the pain inflicted in such a sensitive area.

"I’ve never had to force myself on a woman in order to get laid." Balimund retorted as he captured Maul in a chokehold, his massive forearm applying pressure to the thug's Adam's apple and with his free hand delivered vicious jabs to his kidneys. Maul grunted, slamming his head back to connect with Balimund's chin. Balimund grunted and continued pounding his fist into Maul's bruised flesh.

The thug grunted and snarled, "How did you like my leavings? Bet she ain’t such a pretty little thing no more."

Balimund ignored the barb and smashed Maul's face into the wall. He grinned as he heard the sickening sound of bones breaking. Maul let out a roar and kicked backwards, his boot connecting with Balimund's knee. He heard a grunt and wriggled out of the hold. He grabbed one of the wooden chairs that sat beside the table and swung it at Balimund. The sickening sound of the chair hitting flesh and the coarse expletive that followed filled the room. Balimund groaned and spat out a tooth.

Maul staggered, clutching Balimund. Both men were winded and breathing heavily. Balimund dragged him toward one of the vats the mead was brewed in as he favored his bruised and broken ribs.

Maul headbutted his opponent before slamming both his fists into Balimund's bloodied mouth one after the other. Balimund groaned and retaliated with a fierce kick to Maul's middle, causing him to stagger and fall. Balimund followed him down, once more straddling his core while landing heavy blows to the head and chest. He refused to give up. He would not rest until the breathed his last.

On and on he went. Blood coursed from Maul's mouth, nose and eyes. "You’re fuckin’ dead!" Balimund roared.

All around him stood vats for the mead that was brewed here. Two large boiling vats stood against the north wall while three large storage vats stood opposite along the south wall. A fire crackled under each of the boiling vats.

Snarling, Balimund shoved Maul’s head and upper body into the fire, holding him in place as the flame licked at his flesh, scorching, burning. From his long hours spent working a forge, he was used to the heat. Didn’t mind the fire. Maul, on the other hand, kicked and screamed, desperate to get to be acquitted from this trial of fire.

It was not to be, however. The flame found him guilty, and sentenced him to eternal damnation. Oblivion take mercy on his soul, for Balimund would not.

oOo


	19. Unforgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I dub thee Unforgiven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in posting a new chapter. Rayvin from Worlds Collide ate my muse. Damn diva! 
> 
> The title of this chapter was inspired by and comes from the Metallica song "The Unforgiven II." It suits the mood of the chapter perfectly. 
> 
> Tons of thanks and internet cookies go out to my darling and superbly talented beta, alyssacousland. She's an awesome writer. I highly recommend her work.
> 
> On another note, this fic has reached 100 kudos! I'm so excited. Huge thanks (and cake!) to everyone who has read, lurked, gave kudos, and left comments! It means a lot to me.

Balimund dragged Maul’s burnt and broken body all the way out of the Meadery to the market square. At first he had considered dumping the corpse into the lake like Maul had done to Kirsli, but he decided against it. It was better this way. Better to have it out in the open.

The townsfolk gasped as he made his way through the square. Cries of dismay and horror filled his ears. He knew how he must look. He was badly hurt and bleeding. Every step he took was torture. Hard to breathe was an understatement, but he forced himself to carry on.

Riften needed to see this. They needed to see that he would not let the trespasses committed against Kirsli go unpunished. They needed to see true justice.

However, he knew in his heart what it would mean. Kirsli had been avenged, but justice was often a two way street.

Several members of the Riften Guard closed in on him, surrounding him as he continued on, dragging the body to the Black-Briar Manor. Maven rushed forth, her eyes flashing. Balimund tossed the body at her feet.

“What is the meaning of this?” Maven demanded angrily.

His chest heaving, he stared her down unflinching in the face of her rage. His own hadn’t entirely subsided. It was all that was holding him together, keeping him on his feet. Balimund growled at her, his teeth bared. “Keep your fucking dog on a leash next time. He was warned to stay the fuck away from Kirsli.”

Maven’s eyes narrowed and her lips pursed as if she’d been sucking on something sour. “If you kept the little bitch at home, you wouldn’t have this problem, now would you?” She gestured to the town guardsmen standing around watching. “Are you going to stand there gawking or are you going to do your job? Arrest this man! See that he doesn’t see the outside of a jail cell ever again.”

As they jumped to do her bidding, Balimund held out his wrists, allowing them to place him in irons. “This won’t stand, Maven. Especially once the Jarl sees what he did to Kirsli. I’ll be out before you know it." 

Several guards, including Sigfrost, escorted Balimund to the keep, bringing him before Jarl Laila. Usually the Jarl held her composure, but as her eyes fixed upon Balimund, she gasped. Her eyes widened and her words echoed Maven’s. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Concern filled her tone. She looked him up and down head to toe. “For what reason do you bring our blacksmith before me in irons when it is obvious he is in need of a healer? I demand to know what has happened.”

One of Maven’s toadies began to speak. “This man is accused of murder most foul, my Jarl. Lady Maven called for his arrest.”

Jarl Laila glanced from Balimund to the guard who spoke up. “Who has he been accused of murdering?”

Guardsman Sigfrost then stepped forth. He didn’t relish seeing a man he respected jailed or worse, executed, on Maven’s behest, not without the truth being told first. “Maven’s bodyguard, Maul, but it was not without provocation, my Jarl. Maul brutally attacked and violated his ward, Kirsli.”

Jarl Laila pinned her gaze upon Balimund once more, “Is this true? Have you anything to say in your defense?”

As the adrenaline slowed, the pain he was in began to take effect, intensifying with every labored breath he took. Balimund didn’t know how much longer he would remain on his feet. He knew he would have to come clean. It might be the only thing that would save his hide. Though, none of it mattered if Kirsli didn’t pull through.

“She’s not my ward. She never has been.” He grimaced, feeling his knees begin to shake. He knew it was only a matter of time before they gave out. “She and I spoke to Maramal this morning after the Dragonborn’s wedding. We were going to arrange a ceremony. As it stands now, she may not live through the night. That bastard beat her, raped her and threw her in the lake and this was not the first time he’d ever done that to her. If she hadn’t been pulled from the water by Valindor, she would have drowned.”

The Jarl clenched her jaw, “Normally I would congratulate you on the upcoming nuptials. I witnessed the two of you together at the party last evening and it is clear to me that you seem quite happy together. However, I question the difference in your ages.”

Balimund looked her straight in the eye, his tone unapologetic. “Kirsli is of age. She’s very mature for her years. Besides, older men have always wed younger women. It ensures that a man has plenty of sons to carry on his line. More than that, I love her dearly. She is a very smart, very beautiful and very talented young woman. It’s a distinct possibility that I will lose her.”

He staggered as one of his knees gave out. Sigfrost grabbed him, supporting him so he didn’t fall down. “My Jarl, might we continue this at another time? You yourself have already said he’s in need of healing. What we have here is clearly a case of defending what is his. Not only his bride to be, but the break-in of his business as well. That was also carried out by the deceased earlier in the week.”

“I feel for the possible loss of your intended bride. I understand your need as her husband to be to avenge her, but breaking our laws isn’t the way to go about it. He should have been brought before me and accused in a court of law. I cannot condone vigilantism,” Laila replied.

Balimund scoffed, his swollen and bloody upper lip curling as best it could, “He would have most likely have walked away with a slap on the wrist and I have no doubt he’d have done it again. This way it ends once and for all. The day one of Maven’s toadies or any of the Guild faces true justice will never come, not as long as she claims she’s the one in charge.”

Heat flushed Laila’s cheeks as she bristled from his tone. She sat up in her chair, her back straight as an arrow. “I am the Jarl here.”

“Then bloody grow a pair and act like it.” He roared at her, his voice sounding raspy and pained. “Anytime something goes wrong for her, no matter if it’s her business or a shipment lost or her fucking manor house burned to the ground by a storm, she puts the screws to you, crying out her fucking sob story, and you knuckle under, giving in to whatever Maven wants. You still haven’t paid me for the last two shipments of weapons I delivered, yet the money went to her. Should I have come crying to you earlier in the week when my business was hit, by the Guild mind you, and everything in the house was destroyed or worse yet anything of value stolen? What would have been your answer? ‘Oh, I appreciate your work, but our coffers are rather thin at the moment.’ Well I wonder why?”

Laila’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. Anger built within them, “I understand you are angry, but making such baseless accusations is beneath you. Furthermore, you have gone too far speaking to me in that tone.”

They had not previously noticed the small crowd of witnesses standing close to the heavy doors of the great hall, but when one emerged and approached the throne, all eyes were upon him. He was of average height, but his presence filled the room. Dark warpaint crossed his facial features, giving him a savage look. Adding to it was the dark wolf armor and ferocity in his silver eyes.

When he spoke, his voice sounded like a growl.

“Begging your pardon, Jarl Laila, I am Farkas, a Companion of Jorrvaskr and husband to the Dragonborn, Aria. I bear witness to the truth of this man’s claims. My wife recovered some of his stolen property from Maul and his brother shortly after both men broke into his home and business.”

“What does this have to do with his accusations of this break-in being a Guild hit?” She asked as her eyes flicked to the commotion at the door. Maven had stormed in with Brynjolf on her heels. Behind them came Asgeir Snow-Shod and the elf who had rescued Kirsli from what could have been a watery grave.

“The recovery was made from the deceased in the Ratway at the Ragged Flagon.” Farkas said. “I know you are aware of my wife’s vendetta against the Guild. The two of you spoke of it just yesterday when you offered to make her a Thane of your court if she carried out a certain task for you. I know if she were here this wouldn’t be such an issue.”

Laila pursed her lips, eyes flicking from Farkas to Balimund then briefing glancing over the rest of the gathered crowd. “And where is the Dragonborn?”

Balimund replied, “The services of Danica Pure-Spring, Priestess of Kynareth, are needed to save Kirsli. She’s the only one with the skill powerful enough to have a chance. Aria is the only one quick enough to make to Whiterun and back. She left a couple hours ago.”

The knee that Maul had kicked gave out again and Balimund went down, breathing heavily. He knelt on the floor, groaning as he nearly blacked out from the pain.

“My Jarl, I must insist this be continued at another time. This man is in need of healing. I will personally escort him to the Temple and stay with him.” Sigfrost helped Balimund to his feet, steadying him as much as he could.

“And will you take personal responsibility if he tries to run away, Guardsman?” She asked.

“I will, though I do not believe that will happen. His business is here as well as Kirsli. I do not believe he would willingly leave either.”

“Very well, Guardsman. Take our blacksmith to the Temple. We will continue on without him. Is there anyone present who will speak in your defense, Balimund?”

Balimund’s eyes flicked from Laila to Farkas, who nodded. “Farkas will, my Jarl.”

Farkas gently clapped a hand upon Balimund’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry about anything here. I’ll take care of it. You just focus on Kirsli.”

Balimund inclined his head, ever thankful for his friendship with Aria and Farkas.

“Then you may head to the Temple. I very much would like to see what has befallen Kirsli for myself. I will be stopping by when this is over.” Laila promised before turning her attention back to the matter at hand.

The impromptu trial continued after Sigfrost escorted Balimund out of the keep. Maven saw his departure as her chance to convince Jarl Laila that her bodyguard, Maul had nothing to do with the attack on Kirsli or anything to do with the alleged break-in of the blacksmith’s shop. It was merely a smear campaign perpetrated by the Dragonborn.

Then Valindor bravely stepped forth. He knew full well what speaking out against Maven meant, but the truth had to be heard. His hands shook slightly as he described what he had witnessed and how he had pulled her from the water.

Maven glared, incensed at being made a fool of. The elf would regret crossing her. The Dark Brotherhood was no longer an option, but there were other ways. She had other connections. She interjected, vehemently accusing Laila of taking the word of this elf over hers.

While Laila believed the elf’s story, she also knew Maven was a force to be reckoned with. The final straw, however, came as Asgeir Snow-Shod came forth, validating Alcindor’s story. It was well known that Asgeir was Maven’s business partner. He had put up the money for her to get the Meadery up and running. It had been a profitable investment, but that didn’t mean he agreed with all of her practices. He certainly wasn’t willing to look the other way when a young woman’s life was at stake.

Asgeir had watched Kirsli struggle during her time on the streets. There had been more than a few times he had given her a few coins because he couldn’t bear to see her go hungry. He had also made it possible for her to find work on the Snow-Shod farm. She was a pretty little thing, but it seemed fate had dealt her a bad hand.

His testimony was cause for Jarl Laila to declare Balimund’s actions just. It seemed they truly were warranted. Furthermore, she cautioned against retribution. One death and one life hanging in the balance had sowed enough discord for one day. She would not see her city turned into a battleground just because two factions could not get along.

~*~

Jarl Laila was joined by her housecarl, Unmid, as well as Farkas on the short walk to the Temple. Activity inside was focused on the well-being of their two patients. Unmid’s mother, Nura, was working on Balimund’s many injuries while Maramal and Dinya took turns channeling their healing magic into Kirsli’s unconscious form. It was still unknown, however, if she would make it through the night. Her pulse was weak and her breathing shallow. They had determined she had many life-threatening injuries, some of which gave extreme cause for concern. Magic alone may not be enough. Her survival largely depended upon her will to live.

Maramal took a short break, not only because Jarl Laila was present, but due to nearly depleting his magicka. He inclined his head before her. “My Jarl, it is always a pleasure to have you in our humble temple, but I am afraid this is not the best of times.”

Laila held her hand up, “As I am aware, good priest. I came to see for my own eyes the victim of such a vicious and unwarranted attack. How does she fare?”

His solemn expression spoke volumes. “Poorly, my Jarl, but she is young and by all accounts a fighter. We have been able to determine she has a cracked skull, multiple broken ribs, a punctured lung as well as multiple other broken bones. It is in the hands of the Divines now whether she survives. All we can do is give her as much comfort as we can.”

A grave expression crossed the Jarl’s face as she entered the room Kirsli was in. She gasped at the sight of the brutally battered young woman. That she was still alive after the horror that she had been through was a testament to her tenacity, to her will to live. It was a sobering realization of what really occurred in her city. She had been aware of how tight the Guild held Riften in its grip despite its decline in prominence over the last several years, largely because of Maven. But even then, they hadn’t stooped to doing something like this. This was monstrous compared to the petty theft the Guild was known for. Perhaps it was time to stop relying on Maven and actually do something about the Guild. And she knew just the person who would be eager to assist.

Laila pulled up a chair, sitting beside Balimund. Upon her face was a very sorrowful expression, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. None one should have to go through what that young woman had and she could see now that she was to blame. She had grown lax in her rule, allowing Maven to all but take over. No more, she vowed. She was the Jarl and she would make amends starting with Balimund.

“I owe you an apology. I have been a fool, especially to doubt someone as forthright and honest as you. I should have known you would have not committed such an act without due cause. I am prepared to make amends. Justice will be done. You have my word. When you are able, I want you to come to the keep.”

A lump formed in Balimund’s throat. He had not expected to hear those words from her. While he could see the sincerity in her eyes, something cautioned him to be wary. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that matters would only grow worse before they got any better.

It was always darkest before the dawn. From his viewpoint, the dawn was a long ways off.

~*~

Miraculously, Kirsli made it through the night, though she had yet to wake up. Aria arrived with Danica near dawn. Though she was tired from the ride, Danica immediately took over for the exhausted Maramal and Dinya.

Kirsli’s condition was still dire. Since the Civil War had begun as well as the return of the dragons, the priestess had seen an increase in the need for her services, but even the worst cases didn’t compare to what lay before her. She used her healing arts on the most urgent of the injuries, but there was only so much magical healing could fix. Most of the mending would be up to her body’s ability to bounce back. She was young and healthy. Danica had faith all would be well.

As for Balimund, Nura had patched him up to the best of her ability. His ribs had been bound tightly, as had his knee. The healing she had performed on him had taken care of the bruises and abrasions. The rest would take some time.

Balimund wouldn’t leave Kirsli’s side. He had orders to see to, but Kirsli was far more important to him. Aria had already told him to take care of Kirsli first, that her order could wait a while. She had gotten a message from a contact about the dragon menace just as she had reached Whiterun and had to see to that. So it would be a while before she could bring her housecarls to Riften.

Weeks passed, her injuries were healing, but she had not awoken. Balimund worried for her. He prayed to Mara and Kynareth, beseeching them to bring her back to him. To come this far. He couldn’t bear that she might not wake up.

He didn’t know what he would do if she didn’t wake. Danica had warned him of the possibility before she departed for Whiterun. She had done all she could. The rest was up to Kirsli’s will.

In another turn of events, Jarl Laila not only paid Balimund for what she owed him, she also extracted restitution from Maven as well. It came with a dire warning for the Black-Briar matriarch. No longer would she tolerate Maven’s overstepping her bounds. While she was an important citizen of the city, she was not its ruler and never would be. Jarl Laila would no longer cater to Maven’s every whim. She had had her eyes opened and finally saw Maven for what she was.

If it meant that Maven took her business elsewhere, so be it. Another meadery backed by the Companions of Jorrvaskr, though primarily Aria, would love to expand and fill the void such vacancy would create.

As Kirsli’s seventeenth birthday came and went without the young woman waking it was time to face the inevitable. She may never wake up. It came as a crushing blow to Balimund. As much as he wanted to remain in denial, to believe she’d wake up and everything would be fine, he had to face the facts.

Her body had healed, but she was gone.

And it would take a miracle to get her back.

Then Aria came to him with a plan. It would be risky and it might fail, but it was a chance.

There was nothing left to lose at this point. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t try. He gave the go ahead, praying it would bring the woman he loved back to him.

  
oOo

...

 


	20. The Dreamstride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dreamstride brings Kirsli back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my best friend and awesome beta for help with this chapter. I couldn't have completed this one with her!

It took Aria a week to get to Dawnstar and come back with Erandur, the Dunmer priest of Mara she’d helped several months prior. After Aria explained what had happened to Kirsli and confided her suspicions, he agreed with her assessment and was more than willing to aid her. He gathered the necessary ingredients he’d need for the torpor. She assured him he’d have access to an alchemy lab and the needed privacy to brew the potion since it was a secret known only to priests of Vaermina.

It was early morning when they arrived back in Riften. Erandur immediately started on the potion, stating he would rest once the ritual was complete. Aria gave him the time and space he needed while she, Iona and Farkas left the house. They headed over to Balimund’s, finding him at his forge.

Aria leveled a concerned look at the blacksmith. He looked haggard, dark circles and heavy bags under his eyes. His face was drawn, his eyes hollow. It was almost as if he had given up. She hoped he hadn’t, not completely. She approached him, resting her hand on his shoulder. Sympathy and determination filled her eyes. “Everything is going to work out fine, my friend. You’ll see.”

A flash of doubt crossed his face before he quickly schooled his features. He wanted to believe her plan would work, but there had been so much failure. He nodded his head, not trusting his voice to speak. He dropped the blade he was working on into the trough of water, quenching it thoroughly before motioning to the house.

Aria followed him inside, intently watching his every move. It was easy to see the toll this tragedy had taken upon him. He wasn’t the same person she’d met a year ago. He was somber and morose. And quiet. Almost like he was locked in a shell. She hoped this would bring him out of his despair as much as she hoped the ritual would bring Kirsli out of her catatonic state.

“I conferred with Erandur when I reached Dawnstar and he agrees with me. As I told you before I left, I believe that Kirsli hasn’t woken up because she’s been trapped by a Daedric Lord. Vaermina, to be precise. She is the Daedric Prince of dreams, nightmares and psychological torture. In the simplest terms, what happened to Kirsli attracted the notice of Vaermina who has trapped her in a never-ending nightmare. The potion Erandur is brewing is called Vaermina’s Torpor. With the torpor, you’ll be able to break the cycle by saving her from what happened.” Aria explained to him.

She took note of the skepticism and alarm on his face. “How will _I_ be able to save her?”

Aria chuckled softly, “It has to do with how the torpor works. Usually you’re viewing the memories of another through their eyes. At least when I used it to stop the nightmares in Dawnstar, I was viewing one of Erandur’s memories from a time when he was a priest of Vaermina. I believe once you enter the Dreamstride you can follow her thus saving Kirsli from Maul, so Vaermina will no longer have a hold on her. And Erandur will be here providing Mara’s grace to ensure both of you make it out safely. It won’t change what happened. That’s something she will have to deal with once she’s awake, but she’ll have all of us to help her through it.”

Balimund rubbed his face with his hands. He couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around this scheme. “You said before you left this plan of yours was dangerous and may not work, but you didn’t say why or how. Now you’re telling me a Daedric Lord is involved and I have to rescue her with a potion. Do you have any idea how crazy this sounds?”

“All too well, Balimund,” she gave him a hopeful look. “The key to getting her back is turning the nightmare into a normal dream. You’ve always told her you will protect her. She can’t break out of it until then. She’s waiting for you. I think it’ll be clear to you once the ritual begins.”

He nodded his head. “I just want her back. She’s here. I can walk into that room and see her lying on the bed, but it’s not the same.” His voice cracked. “You know I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Aria hugged him tightly. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”

“Thank you, Aria,” he whispered against the top of her head. He hugged her back, just as tightly.

She smiled widely, “Anytime, dear friend.”

~*~

Erandur joined Aria several hours later with the potion vial in hand.  He greeted Balimund and further explained what could possibly happen during the Dreamstride. Much of it Balimund had already heard from Aria. A skeptical look still graced the smith’s face.

“What troubles you, my son?” He pushed back the hood of his cloak, bestowing upon Balimund a sincere gaze.

“I have always lived a simple life. I work with my hands. I produce the finest weapons. This is beyond anything I have ever experienced.”

“I can tell you still have doubts, but all will be clear soon enough.” Erandur glanced down at Kirsli’s sleeping form. “I will be here watching over you. If I sense something amiss, I will use my arts to bring you back. You have but to drink.”

The dark elf priest extended his hand holding the vial of Vaermina’s Torpor, giving it to Balimund. “This young woman’s fate rests in that vial. I’ve done all I can. You must do the rest. I understand your hesitation, but I have faith this will work. You can bring her back. In fact, you are the only one who can.”

Balimund drew in a deep breath. He licked his lips, uncorking the bottle. His eyes flicked from Erandur to Aria then down at Kirsli. He spoke in a determined tone, “I will bring her back.”

He drank all of the torpor, cringing at the taste. It was worse than rotten eggs and spoiled milk. When the hazy vision cleared, he noted he was no longer in Kirsli’s bedchamber. Riften’s Marketplace stretched out before him. He could see his forge and the guards flanking the door that led to the docks. That was where he needed to go. He walked around the market and stopped at his forge. Reaching out a hand he touched the anvil he worked on and it felt real - cool and hard to the touch as always. He quickly walked towards his finished weapons and chose the best one of the bunch. It had been commissioned by the Jarl herself for her son, so he knew it would serve him well. He sheathed it, and proceeded to walk towards the door that led to the docks, which was flanked by guards. The guards nodded and one of them asked him what he was doing there.

“I’m here on the Jarl’s orders,” he declared in a serious voice. “If you wish I can bring her out here and she can make you spend the rest of your shift cleaning out the latrines in the guard barracks.”

“You may pass,” shuddered the guard closest to him.

Balimund quickly opened the door and closed it behind him. It was unreal to be touching everyday objects and to know it was a dream at the same time. The only thing he could see as dreamlike was a certain haziness to the landscape. Aside from that everything immediately in front of and behind him was crystal clear and as real as anything was in the waking world.

Marveling at this world would get him nowhere so he shook his head to clear it and advanced on the wooden planks to his first destination. He heard a scream and rushed forward, recognizing Kirsli’s voice instantly.

“Let me go, you brute! I will NOT let you touch me! I won’t!” Kirsli shouted as Balimund unsheathed the sword and rushed forward.

Maul let her go, to turn and face his attacker. He jeered at Balimund, unsheathing his own weapons immediately. “You wanna piece of her? Well, you can’t have her, she’s mine!”

“Let her go you monster!” Balimund declared. “I’ve killed you in the real world. I’m not afraid of killing you here!”

Their weapons clashed and Kirsli smiled at Balimund before he managed to slice Maul’s arm. The thug stepped back clutching his forearm as the blood poured out.

“I’m not done with you!” Balimund yelled as he moved in to stab him again. But Maul was ready for him.  He swung his weapon around and brought it down, thinking to crush Balimund, but Balimund was already gone from the spot, stabbing Maul’s side in the process.

The thief dropped down on his knees.

“Please, let me live. I prefer to face the Jarl than your blade!” Maul whimpered as Balimund stood only inches away, his sword raised.

“Did you ask Kirsli if she preferred to leave before you brutally raped and beat her? Did you ask her if she was in pain? If she needed for _you_ to call the Jarl to help her? Did you tell her to simply leave and let her live? _You bastard_! You will _DIE_ for what you’ve done!”

Balimund stepped forward and stabbed him with his weapon. The sword went into Maul’s chest, clearly slicing his heart open and the tip appeared on the other side of Maul’s body. The thief gave a gurgling moan and sank to the wooden floor, dead.

“Balimund! You came to help me! You saved me!” Kirsli rushed to his open arms.

“I will always save you and love you with all my heart,” Balimund whispered. “Come back to me, honey! I beg you!”

The whole landscape changed dramatically, and suddenly he was no longer on the docks, but sitting in a chair in front of Kirsli’s bed. And Kirsli was looking up at him, her eyes wide open. She smiled up at him and he felt so much happiness he couldn’t even talk.

“Balimund!” Kirsli whispered holding out her arms.

And the tears Balimund had been holding back finally fell as he rushed to take Kirsli in his arms, thanking the gods for this miracle.

“Blessed Mara! You’re back, Kirsli honey. You’re back!”

~*~

In the days that followed, Balimund kept himself busy attending to Kirsli and making her feel safe and protected again. It wasn’t an easy task, but this was Balimund and if there was something he had in spades, it was patience. Even though Kirsli was sleeping beside him, he kept his hands to himself and was always around to help her. He did the cleaning for her and helped her do the shopping, he was even nearby as he watched her cook with a grin. He was happy. Kirsli was alive and with him, and that brought a smile to his face all the time. Even when he was at the forge working. The haggard appearance he had started to develop was disappearing and a smile was on his face more often than not.

Erandur stopped by twice to take a look at Kirsli and see how she was faring. Although she shrank away from him, grabbing Balimund’s hand, she did manage to thank him both times, her eyes lowering to the floor as Balimund and Erandur conversed briefly about other things.

Aria had been by Kirsli’s side the first week after she woke up. Kirsli and Aria became close friends. Soon Balimund managed to finish the armor sets for Aria’s housecarls, who had arrived in Riften as soon as Kirsli was brought back from her nightmare. They were fitted into the most gorgeous and strong Dragonbone armor Kirsli had ever seen. Aria paid Balimund double what he asked for and although he protested, he took the money when Aria teasingly threatened to shout him to bits if he didn’t.  
  
During one of Aria’s visits to Balimund’s forge, he brought up the subject of furthering Kirsli’s studies at the school she’d talked about in the Imperial City. Not that he wanted to see her go, but he still believed it was the best thing for her. A bark of laughter slipped from Aria’s lips.

“What’s so funny, Aria?” Balimund asked with a grin.

“We’re deciding her future. Don’t you know Kirsli by now? We shouldn’t do this for her. She should be the one to decide!” Aria said with a laugh.

“We can talk to her over dinner tonight, if you aren’t busy?” Balimund asked, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Well, Farkas was needed back at Jorrvaskr. So I could cook some dinner for the both of you, would that be alright?” Aria asked with a grin. “Argis, Lydia, Jordis and Iona may have to fend for themselves though. It might be for the best if I send Argis out of the house. Wouldn’t want to scare Kirsli.”

“That would be more than alright. I’ll tell Kirsli once I go inside to clean up,” Balimund smiled back.

And so, that afternoon, Balimund closed up shop early and stepped into the house. Kirsli was washing some clothes in the basement, and he greeted her with a smile planting a kiss her on her brow lightly. Then he turned and rolled up his sleeves to wash up, although he was thinking of taking a bath before dressing for dinner with Aria.

“Kirsli honey, Aria has invited us both to dinner,” Balimund said as he took a towel to dry himself. “Would that be alright with you?” He turned to look at her and saw her smiling up at him.

Her eyes brightened. “I would love to. Let me finish up here and change into something nice.” She hung the clothing up on the lines strung up in the basement then raced up the stairs as quick as her feet could carry her.

After brushing her hair out, she pulled on a pretty dark red and white dress and pulled on a pair of matching ankle boots. Balimund joined her a while later after he bathed and slipped into a simple blue tunic and loose trousers.

She smiled at him, “Asbjorn was just here.”

Balimund raised an eyebrow, “Oh? I hope all is well.”

“It is. Constance wants me to stop over tomorrow. I guess she has something she wants to tell me.” Kirsli sighed. “It’s a shame I missed their wedding.”

“I know, but you were there… in a sense. I attended. I was in the temple because I refused to leave your side. I know I’ve said it before and will probably keep saying it, but I am so happy to have you back.” He embraced her tightly and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Are we ready to head over to Aria’s?”

Kirsli nodded. She really hadn’t been out of the house much since awakening from her catatonic state. She accepted his arm, holding onto it rather tightly. He led her past the market and the inn to the other side of the canal where Aria’s home, Honeyside sat. Many of the people they passed greeted them, offering glad tidings.

Aria greeted them at the door just as her housecarls headed out, opting to have dinner at the Bee and Barb. All four were dressed in casual clothes. Without the armor Balimund had crafted for them, they didn’t look as fierce as usual, though the sight of Argis with his scars and face paint caused Kirsli to press against Balimund’s side. The smith wrapped his arm around her, quietly reassuring her that everything was alright.

The house hadn’t changed much since Kirsli had last been in it. Near the door was the hearth, round dinner table, shelving full of cheeses and produce, and a stone oven. Further into the room were weapon cases and racks, armor stands, an alchemy and enchanting lab as well as shelving full of alchemy components and soul gems. Past that near the ladder leading to the basement was a small library nook. The shelves were overfull of books and various trinkets Aria had collected on her many adventures.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Aria smiled genuinely at the both of them. “Food’s almost done. We can eat in or if you prefer, on the porch since it’s a nice evening out.”

Kirsli glanced up at Balimund.

“It’s up to you, honey,” he replied as he rubbed her lower back soothingly. “I’m right here with you.”

Kirsli drew in a deep breath. She really did want to be outside, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to look at the docks yet. She knew, however, that sooner or later she would have to face her fears. Although her heart was racing frantically, she made her decision. “The porch sounds nice. I remember it being a pretty view.”

“Then I shall go set the table outside,” Aria stated as she grabbed a few place settings to take to the porch.

While Aria busied herself with that, Balimund pulled Kirsli into his arms, holding her tightly. “I’m proud of you, honey.”

She looked up at him with eyes gleaming full of love, “I’m okay. If it’s too much, I’ll let you know. I’m just so lucky to have you through all of this. You have been my rock and I know you’ll always be here for me.”

A fond smile crossed his face as his heart filled to the brim with love for her, “I always will be.”

Aria called them moments later. “It’s all ready, though if you’d rather live in your own little world, that’s fine too. You’re just so adorable together.” She winked at them as her voice adopted a teasing tone.

Balimund adopted a lopsided grin, “Says the woman whose husband follows her around like an overgrown puppy.” He placed his hand on the small of Kirsli’s back, escorting her out onto the porch.

Aria laughed out loud, “Farkas tries to be a big bad wolf, but he has such a big heart. Makes me wish he were here right now, but there was business that he and his brother Vilkas had to take care of.” The blonde Nord glanced out at the lake, pining for her love. She would see him soon, that much she knew for sure. “Shall we?”

Upon the table sat a sumptuous repast. Kirsli’s eyes grew large, her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled. She chose one of the seats not facing the docks. Balimund sat next to her and Aria chose the empty seat across from her. They made light conversation while they dined. Once they had finished, Aria cleared the table, serving pie and coffee. It was then she broached the reason she’d had them over for dinner.

“Have you given any more thought to the finishing school we’d spoken about before the attack, Kirsli?” Aria asked quite bluntly.

Kirsli’s eyes grew wide. As panic set in, Balimund placed a reassuring hand over hers, leveling a glare upon her. “Honey, I’m here. It’s alright.” His voice was soft and gentle. Kirsli nodded and sucked in a deep breath, releasing it slowly.

“I’m okay. I just wasn’t expecting you to ask me that, Aria. I… I want to go. I – It’s just –“

“I didn’t mean for it to sound the way it did. I’ve been in contact with the headmistress of the school and she’s accepted you as a student. I was just curious if you were still interested. Besides, I wouldn’t ship you off to Cyrodiil all by yourself. I’d go with you to make sure you get settled in safely.” Aria replied warmly. A smile graced her face.

An incredulous mien graced Kirsli’s lovely face, “You will go with me?”

“Of course I will, sweetie. You are a dear friend and as your sponsor to the school, it is my honor to be there with you.” Aria placed her hand over those of Balimund’s and Kirsli’s.

Balimund winked at her, “And I will go with you as well, honey. Asbjorn can take care of the forge until I get back. I wouldn’t dream of sending you off alone.”

Kirsli smiled, her apprehension and fear melted away. “I want to go. Knowing you both will travel to Cyrodiil with me means the world to me. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Excellent!” Aria beamed. “I will make the arrangements then. I believe it’ll be quickest to take a ship. I’ll make the inquiries and take care of the fare.” She caught Balimund’s frown. “Don’t argue with me. I have a friend in Solitude that owns a ship.”

Kirsli snickered, “You should know not to argue with her by now. You never win.”

He flashed a mock glower at Kirsli, “Hey! Whose side are you on anyway?” Then he burst out laughing, knowing they were both right. “Fine, we’ll take the ship. I leave it all in your capable hands.”

Iona, Lydia, Jordis and Argis joined them a few moments later, each of them pulling up a stool by the railing of the porch. Kirsli stiffened a tiny bit, but relaxed as Balimund gripped her hand. It was Aria who chose to address the issue. “Kirsli sweetie, I know you are still somewhat scared when it comes to being around intimidating looking men, but Argis would never hurt you. In fact as a friend of mine, I’m pretty damn sure he’d protect you with his life.”

“I sure would, Kirsli. You have nothing to fear from me.” Argis spoke up. “If I could ever help you, let me know. I’d be willing to help train you to fight.”

A genuine smile graced her lips, “Thank you. I think I’d like that. Aria and Farkas started to train me before their wedding. I’d like to learn more before I leave for school.”

“Then we’ll all help.” Jordis spoke up.

“It’ll be fun.” Iona agreed, “How about sometime tomorrow?”

“Weren’t we going to dragon hunt tomorrow?” Lydia spoke up.

Argis scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Way to dampen the poor girl’s confidence, Lyd. We can go on a dragon hunt anytime. I think helping her would be better, but if you want to go on a hunt, go for it. You’d make for fine dragon bait.”

“You don’t have to change your plans for me,” Kirsli shrugged her shoulders. “I’m going to spend some time with Constance at Honorhall, but I won’t be all day.”

Jordis tapped her fingers against the wooden railing, “Oh, we could do some training in the morning, and then go on our hunt in the afternoon. That dragon has been spotted up on Lost Tongue Overlook for the past several days so it should still be there.”

“Sounds good to me,” Iona said after she drained her mug of ale, “Argis?”

“I’m in,” he agreed. “Lydia?”

“I bet I can bring it down before you even get your sword out of your sheath,” the dark haired female quipped back.

“We’ll see about that, sweetcheeks,” Argis guffawed, his one good eye twinkling with delight. “Are you coming with us, Thane?”

Aria shook her head, “I’m more inclined to shout your stubborn ass out into the water for calling me ‘Thane.’ You know I hate it.”

Argis let out a bark of laughter, “That’s why I do it.”

“You are a brave man. It was nice knowing you.” Balimund chuckled as he spoke up.

A lopsided grin crossed Argis’ handsome face, “She won’t shout me across the lake and we both know it.” He winked at her. “It’s my job to keep her on her toes.”

“And it’s not like he doesn’t know my name. There was a time when I had him screaming it passionately, of course that was before Farkas and I were ever a couple.” She stuck her tongue out and blew him a raspberry. “And yes, if there’s to be a dragon hunt, I’m going with you.”

“I’m gonna grab another drink. Does anyone want too?” Iona asked as she headed for the back door of the house. Argis, Jordis and Lydia all asked for another. Moments later Iona came back out with a concerned look on her face. “I think I heard something downstairs. Do you want me to check it out?”

Aria rubbed a hand over her face. “No, I will. I might be nothing. But if it is something, and if it turns out to be what I think it is, we are going to spit-roast a rat.”

Balimund shook his head, “Are you still having trouble with them?”

“I thought I had come to an agreement with Brynjolf the last time I went down to the Ragged Flagon and killed a couple of their people. Looks like I may have to do it again.” Aria gritted through clenched teeth. It made her wonder what had pissed Maven Black-Briar off this time. Maybe the time had come to deal with Maven once and for all. She had been putting it off, but if they were going to break into one of her homes while she was here, that was going too far.

Of course she wouldn’t get ahead of herself just yet. She’d have to find out what the noise was that Iona heard.

Balimund pushed himself out of his chair. “This might be a good time for Kirsli and I to head on home. I thank you for having us over.”

“It was my pleasure. I’ll make the arrangements and let you know when we sail, but I’m sure we’ll see each other before then. Take care.” Aria hugged both of them, escorting them through the house to the front door before she turned the stairs to the basement.

It was time to catch a rat.

~*~


	21. Vendetta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aria catches a rat and Brynjolf realizes more is going on than he ever imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for character death. 
> 
> This chapter pretty much belongs to Aria. She stole the show and ran away with it. I needed to start to tie up some loose plot strings and this one just worked nicely. It's a little shorter than my usual chapters. Hopefully the next chapter will make up for it. 
> 
> Shouts:  
> Unrelenting Force - Fus Ro Dah - Force Balance Push  
> Aura Whisper - Laas Yah Nir - Life Seek Hunt  
> Storm Call - Strun Bah Qo - Storm Wrath Lightning

Chapter Twenty-One: Vendetta

_Earlier that evening_

The Breton Guild Master, Mercer Frey, looked up from the note that had just been handed to him by Thrynn, growling. Maven must be out of her mind to make such demands. He shouted across the Cistern at his ginger-haired second-in-command, who had been sitting near Sapphire, their heads close together as they chatted amongst themselves, “Brynjolf! Get your ass over here!”

Mercer watched as Brynjolf hastened over to his side, a weary ‘what now?’ plastered on his handsome face, “Yes, Mercer?”

“I have orders from Maven, but we are going to have to be very careful about how this is carried out. I want you to bring me Vex.” Mercer replied, and even though he glanced sideways at Brynjolf, he didn’t quite make eye contact.

Brynjolf’s brow furrowed. “What’s the job?”

“Fetch me Vex and I’ll tell you both when she’s here. Have I made myself clear?” Mercer growled through clenched teeth.

Something didn’t seem right, the ginger thief mused as he headed for the Flagon. Suspicion roiled in his gut and he didn’t like it one bit. It didn’t take him long to bring Vex over into the Cistern, despite the fact he took a few moments to caution her that something was up, something that he didn’t like.

“Good, you’re both here.” Mercer glanced at both of them as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Brynjolf scowled, “What is this about, Mercer?”

Mercer ignored his second’s question as he turned to the equally scowling blonde standing beside Brynjolf. “Maven is requesting your infiltration skills for a job, Vex. A certain Thane of Jarl Laila’s court has an object that she wants to get her hands on. She wants the Blade of Woe recovered, the very same blade once carried by Astrid. Search the house here in Riften. If it isn’t here, then we’ll have to break into her other houses, Markarth, Solitude, Whiterun, and Falkreath.”

Brynjolf protested loudly, “Are you serious, Mercer? You want to send Vex into the Dragonborn’s home, knowing what she’s done in the past to us? Knowing what the lass is?”

“According to Maven, no one is home at present because they were all at the Bee and Barb. Now is the time to do it.” Mercer retorted, his face an angry mask. “Maven wants this and she won’t accept a failure.”

Vex glared at Mercer then glanced at Brynjolf. “That bitch killed Tonilia for no reason. It’s about time we got some payback. I’ll find what Maven wants, even if I have to rip that house to shreds. If it’s not here I’ll head for Whiterun.”

Brynjolf shook his head, watching Vex leave the Cistern. He had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling. He knew Aria wouldn’t take too kindly to them breaking into her home, not after Maul had nearly killed the little red-headed lass.

~*~

After Aria had said her goodbyes to Balimund and Kirsli, she quickly cast an invisibility spell upon herself and crept to the ladder leading to the basement. She stilled her breathing, listening carefully, then made her way down the ladder. She crouched down at the bottom of it, listening again. There was a noise coming from her bedroom.

“ _Laas Yah Nir_ ,” she whispered, letting her Aura Whisper shout reveal any and all life forces that might be in the house.

The shout detected one. The same one who had caused the noise moments earlier. Aria crept to the doorway, peaking in. A lone figure in the black Guild armor was rummaging through her safe at this very moment. Aria really didn’t keep anything valuable in there. She imagined the thief was mighty disappointed to have gone through all the trouble of opening it only to discover it held a handful of burned books she’d collected from various Nordic ruins. Aria wasn’t stupid, though. All of her real valuables were in Whiterun, guarded by the Companions.

But this invasion of her property begged the question of just what she was going to go with the thief. She had had enough of the Thieves’ Guild. It was more than obvious that Brynjolf had gone back on his word. Whoever this was had come into her home and Aria wasn’t about to forgive such a trespass.

She moved closer, within a few feet, noticing the thief was female with blonde hair. Aria had seen this woman before in the Ragged Flagon. The burned books were spread out at her feet. The thief had emptied other strongboxes of their contents, but it was mostly books and other clutter. No shiny trinkets that thieves delighted in.

“ _FUS RO DAH_!” Aria unleashed the Unrelenting Force from her throat straight at the blonde thief, sending her crashing into the back wall a few feet away.

Straightening herself, Aria dashed into a nearby room which held a small forge and found a length of rope in one of the supply chests. She returned to her bedroom with it and knelt beside the thief. A cursory check revealed the blonde was still breathing. Aria quickly tied her up and donned her armor. She dragged the thief up the stairs, uncaring if it caused any damage. By the time Aria was done with her, these few bumps and bruises wouldn’t matter.

Then she poked her head out onto her back porch where her housecarls were still lounging. Lydia was at the far end by herself, drinking from a bottle of wine while Jordis and Iona each occupied one of Argis’ knees. Jordis and Argis were kissing while Iona nibbled at his ear and neck. It didn’t take a genius to realize what the three of them would be doing later. A growl rumbled in Aria’s throat. Without Farkas here, she wasn’t in the mood to listen to her housecarls fucking all night.

Interrupting their fun right now, however, would be worth it. Oh, they wouldn’t be happy about it, but that was what made it fun for her. Aria snickered.

“Hey, caught me a rat,” she called out, “Armor up. We’re gonna roast it.”

Lydia jumped from her seat with an excited shout while Argis groaned. He leaned his honey blond head against Jordis’ chest, muttering under his breath over Thane Aria’s bad timing. Jordis and Iona frowned, begrudgingly pushing themselves from Argis’ lap. They joined Lydia and headed into the house, giving Argis some time to readjust himself.

When the housecarls were all armored up, though, they made for a formidable sight. Argis looked every bit of the fierce warrior he was in his Dragonbone armor. Lydia’s sculptured ebony armor looked more like a catsuit as it fit the contours of her body like a glove. Iona and Jordis both wore blackened dragon scale. The process to blacken the scales had caused Balimund no small amount of headaches, but considering the end result looked so fantastic, it was worth it. That didn’t mean he wanted to do it again.

Aria dragged the bound thief out onto the porch and down to the small boat tied to her dock. Then she added a few other things she would need. Her housecarls joined her. And though Argis grumbled slightly, he took up the oars and rowed them out the island that Goldenglow had once sat upon. He found a place to tie up the boat and they all climbed up on the shore.

Aria bade Argis to carry the thief while Lydia and Iona grabbed the supplies. Once Aria had found the right spot, she quickly dug a shallow pit not more than eighteen inches deep, long enough to fit a person inside. She lined it with dried kindling, dumping upon that a layer of fire salts, and set it aflame with her fire breath. When she had a good layer of coals, she divested the thief of her armor and rested her on the flame. Then she covered her form with the dirt she’d previously removed.

It wasn’t long before the thief woke up from being knocked out by the Unrelenting Force shout, screaming as fire licked her skin. Aria grinned in satisfaction, even as her housecarls raised their eyebrows at the lengths she would go. After a particularly loud piercing scream echoed across the quiet night sky, she pulled the greatsword from her back and brought it down across the thief’s throat, effectively decapitating her.

A cold, hard glare crossed the Dragonborn’s face. She scooped up the severed head, its features twisted in horrific death throes. She stuffed it in a burlap sack, turning to her housecarls. “To the Ratway,” she simply stated.

~*~

The dingy corridors hadn’t changed much since the last time she had entered the Ratway. Quickly she traversed them with her housecarls trailing behind her. The Ragged Flagon was near empty, the barkeep the only person in sight. Aria calmly approached him, knowing full well he wouldn’t appreciate her being here. She had killed his lover the last time she was down here.

A dark scowl crossed his face, “You have no business here. I suggest you leave.” Then he returned to sweeping the floor.

“I will as soon as I see your _Guild Master_.” Aria responded with a sharp tone to her voice. “Tell him the Harbinger of the Companions requests a meeting.”

She glanced to the right as she picked up the sound of two voices to the right of her. Under her breath she whispered, “ _Laas Yah Nir_.” Her shout detected two auras in the corridor leading to the Cistern. She could smell their hearts beating, knew one of the voices belonged to Brynjolf, the other though… perhaps the bald headed man she’d seen the last time she was here.

Since the barkeep didn’t seem too inclined to acquiesce to her request, she would take matters into her own hands. She marched towards the voices, finding them just inside the small room she and Brynjolf had fought in the last time she was here.

“Brynjolf,” Aria flashed a wicked grin at him.

The rather frantic yet heated conversation carried out by the two men before her came to a halt as the ginger haired one looked over at her, frowning, “Yes, lass?”

“Perhaps you’ll be more likely to carry out my request than your barman was. As Harbinger of the Companions, I request a meeting with your Guild Master… _NOW_!” At first her demeanor was calm then it changed in an instant. Her eyes glowed silver, her teeth bared menacingly.

Brynjolf had seen it before. His jaw clenched as fear ate at his composure. There could only be one reason why she was here. He knew this wouldn’t end well. There hadn’t been any word from Vex. He knew he shouldn’t have let Vex go alone, but Mercer had insisted. He should have trusted his gut and went with her, even if it meant defying Mercer.

The ginger thief rubbed his face. He knew Mercer wouldn’t be happy about her showing up here. Would be pissed if he brought her into the Cistern, but Brynjolf had to know what happened to Vex. He glanced over at Delvin, noting the wide-eyed fear in the older man’s eyes. Delvin had been in love with Vex for years, but the beautiful blonde sneered at his advances.

Brynjolf carefully looked Aria up and down, scrutinizing every inch of her. She carried nothing but her weapons, but a cursory glance past her revealed four heavily armored warriors. Her housecarls. He sighed, shaking his head, “Follow me.”

He and Delvin led her and her housecarls into the Cistern. It was a large domed area with a water feature in the middle. Aria slowed her steps long enough to use her Aura Whisper shout, mentally taking count of the number of other Thieves’ Guild members congregating within the area. Some were sitting at table, chatting amongst themselves. A few were playing dice or cards. Others were shooting arrows at training dummies. From what she knew tell, none of them posed a serious threat to herself or her housecarls. In fact, she was sure she could paint the walls red just like she had done with the Brotherhood.

Brynjolf approached Mercer’s desk, knowing full well what the Guild Master’s reaction would be. Heads were sure to roll. He just hoped one of them wasn’t his. “Mercer, I present Aria Winterbourne, Harbinger of the Companions. She has requested a meeting with you.”

Mercer’s pinned his steely gaze upon his second-in-command, rage simmering within them. “Then you should have told the bitch I was busy.” He glanced from Brynjolf to Aria with a sneer on his curled upper lip, “You are not welcome here, Harbinger.”

“Is that so, Guild Master? Especially since you were so kind to extend an invitation.” Aria plastered a wolfish grin on her face, motioning to Argis who handed her a burlap sack. She dumped the contents onto Mercer’s desk, watching as Vex’s severed head rolled across the desk, falling to the floor and coming to rest at Delvin’s feet.

A chorus of startled gasps and cries filled the air. The bald Breton thief fell to his knees, a wail on his lips, as he stared at the head. His sobs echoed loudly as he clutched it to his chest. Though disbelief, sorrow and anger flooded every bit of Brynjolf, he kept his wits about him, calling forth Sapphire to take the Breton thief into the back where he could mourn in peace.

“The next thief I catch, I’ll send them back to you a piece at a time.” Aria growled out. “Then it’s your head I’m coming for, Guild Master. From what I’ve seen, this guild would be better off without you. Obviously your people don’t matter to you, especially if you are going to keep throwing them at a dragon.”

Mercer sneered at her, “Wolf, more like it, _Harbinger_.”

Barking laughter slipped from her lips, “You think you are so clever, don’t you? Just because you’ve discovered a few of our secrets. I may be a werewolf, yes, but it’s the dragon you should fear more. I’ll roast you alive just like I did that pretty little thing you sent to die.” Aria crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’d love to do it right here, right now, but there’s someone else who wants to see you dead even more than I do, and I shall not rob that person the pleasure of putting an arrow through your black heart.”

Brynjolf’s brows went up into his hairline as a bewildered cry ripped from his throat. Something more was afoot than he ever imagined and he only hoped he’d discover what before this vendetta or whatever it was Aria had against them wiped out everything he held dear.

~*~

Brynjolf followed Aria back to the surface, catching up to her just as she reached Honeyside. “What in the name of Shor’s bones is going on, lass?”

His hand wrapped around her elbow, knowing the act of touching her might cause her housecarls to move against him. Aria turned to face him, inclining her head at the four warriors surrounding them. She wordlessly motioned to them to give her and Brynjolf a moment. Jordis, Iona, and Lydia immediately entered the house, but Argis lingered behind a little longer. He raised an eyebrow at her, questioningly, as he glanced back and forth from the redheaded thief to her.

Aria cleared her throat, “Go on, Argis. I’ll be fine.”

Argis gritted his teeth, leveling a glare of warning upon Brynjolf, before he nodded at his Thane and left them alone to talk.

“Protective lad, eh?”

Aria chuckled low in her throat, “Very much so. It doesn’t matter that I really don’t need it. It just nice to know he and the others care.” She stretched her arm out, offering it to him. “Walk with me.”

Brynjolf took her arm, leading her about the city in a stroll. “I need the truth, lass. I am tired of losing people I care about. I am more than willing to come to an accord with you.”

Aria pursed her lips. She knew the most recent death had rocked several members of the guild to the core and yet she knew there would be more. “Tell me why Mercer sent someone into my house after you and I had a deal that you’d keep your people out of my business?”

Brynjolf exhaled a heavy breath, guiding her towards the docks. They passed by Balimund’s forge, though he was not present. He knew this was one of the things Mercer and Maven would be less than pleased if he told Aria the truth, but if those two kept throwing people he considered to be family at her, there wouldn’t be anyone left.

“Maven wants something of yours, however, what she wants it for I couldn’t say.”

“Couldn’t or won’t,” Aria interjected as they descended the stairs leading to the docks.

He guided her away from the Meadery, circumventing the Fishery until they reached the far end of the docks. Aria sat down, dangling her feet above the water of Lake Honrich. Sitting beside her, Brynjolf mulled over her question. “I don’t know all the details, lass. Apparently she has her reasons.”

“Then my next question would be what the hell was the thief looking for when she broke into my house and why the fuck did Mercer or Maven think I would keep anything of value here in Riften when you lot are here in this hellhole?”

“She wants the Blade of Woe you took from Astrid when you wiped out the Brotherhood. That’s all I know, lass.” Brynjolf’s voice took on a bit of an angry edge.

Laughter tore from Aria, shaking her so hard she nearly fell into the water if it hadn’t been for Brynjolf grabbing hold of her.

He frowned at her laughter, making Aria laugh even more. Tears of mirth rolled down her cheeks and she grasped for air. As soon as she calmed herself, she gave him an answer he was not expecting. “Tell Maven I said she’ll have to climb to the peak of the Throat of the World and convince its guardian to part with it.”

A curse ripped from Brynjolf’s lips. It suddenly made sense. What she had said to Mercer about dragons. This wasn’t going to go over well. Not at all. “Lass, what you said to Mercer earlier, who is it that wants to see him dead?” The feeling he had that gnawed at his gut returned, more potent than before.

Her expression sobered, her eyes locking with his. “I wish I could tell you, but you will know everything in due time. I swear it. Honestly Brynjolf, I’m tired of fighting with you and your people, but that bastard you call a Guild Master and oh yes, that bitch Maven will not survive the storm that is coming. If she thinks the worst I can do is burn down her home and put her out of business, then she has not learned that you don’t fuck with Aria.”

Brynjolf gasped, his green eyes widening in disbelief. “That was you?”

Aria nodded, pride gleaming the depths of her silver eyes.

“How?”

“I am the Dragonborn.” She stated and stood up. She threw back her head, and raised her arms to the sky above. “ _Strun Bah Qo_.”

The skies blackened to darkest pitch as a torrent of rain, thunder and lightning erupted all around them, drenching them in an instant. Brynjolf scrambled beneath the eaves of the Fishery while Aria embraced the storm she had called forth. She laughed, dancing about until the energy of the storm faded as quickly as it had begun.

“You are one crazy lass,” Brynjolf shook his head. He still didn’t know what to make of her revelations, but he knew one thing was for certain. If there was any hope of saving the guild he had given his life to, it would be by going against the will of Mercer and Maven.

For whatever Aria and her mysterious partner had planned, it meant everything he knew was about to change. He only hoped when the dust finally cleared, he was still alive to see it.

oOo


	22. Decisions for the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirsli makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been FOREVER since I've updated this story. I've had a lot of RL issues to deal with and a ton of writer's block and the characters decided to not cooperate/not talk to me. 
> 
> Then to top it off I discovered the Mass Effect trilogy and Mass Effect: Andromeda, so I've been consumed by those four games as well.
> 
> But here's an update.... it's unbeta'ed. Forgive my mistakes. I tried to catch them.
> 
> And oh,,,, I made a couple minor changes to the previous chapter, Vendetta. The changes have to do with the item that Vex was searching for when she broke into Honeyside. Originally it was the Aetherial Crown, but I've changed it to the Blade of Woe. There are reasons. 
> 
> Also this story and my Dragon Age/Elder Scrolls: Skyrim crossover story titled Bird of Prey are now a part of the same "universe", so to speak. What the stories share in common is the same Dragonborn, Aria. Because I really like Aria.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Decisions for the Future

Upon leaving Honeyside, Balimund and Kirsli strolled through the market on their way home, but before they reached the forge, she stopped, smiling up at him. Balimund met her smile with one of his own as well as a quizzical look.

“Let’s go home,” he nodded at the door of the house several feet away.

“Not yet,” she shook her head. “Walk with me.”

Then she proceeded to lead him to the gate nearest Honorhall.

“Anything for you, honey,” Balimund bestowed a smile upon her that warmed her, sending fissures of heat racing through her and finally settled deep in her loins.

Kirsli bit her lip, smothering a moan that threatened to slip forth. Conflicting emotions forced her to look away as a flush painted her cheeks a rosy shade of red. She loved this man, wanted this man. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, not like… But fear gripped her.

Strong arms encircled her, pulling her into a warm embrace. His eyes and voice were soft, his expression kind as he spoke, “Kirsli honey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really. I just have to remind myself you would never hurt me.” She snuggled into him, soaking up his body heat.

“That’s right. I would not. You mean far too much to me. Come on. You wanted to go for a walk.” He kept an arm around her as he guided her through the gate and down the cobblestone road along the lake.

“I was thinking about the finishing school and being so far away from home… from you. I know I need to go. I know it’ll be a good experience for me, but at the same time, it’s so scary. I’m terrified.”

Balimund guided her to a small grove of trees near the shoreline. The spot concealed them from view, but they could still see and hear everything going on around them. It also gave them a good view of the island Goldenglow had sat upon. The estate was no longer there and so far no one had rebuilt it.

“Considering what you’ve been through, I’d be concerned if you weren’t.” He pulled her into his arms, embracing her tightly. “You have always been a strong and smart young woman. A little fear is natural and is nothing to be ashamed of. I would imagine you would feel this way regardless. I know I would. You won’t be alone, though. I’m going with you to get you settled in. It’ll be interesting to see the Imperial City. Aria said much of it still hasn’t recovered from the Great War and parts of the city are in ruins.”

Kirsli wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his upper chest. She felt his lips graze the top of her head. “What did I ever do to get so lucky?” She mused quietly.

A soft chuckle rumbled through his chest, “I ask myself that every day, Kirs. I don’t know what I’d have done if I had lost you. You make life worth living.”

Heat flooded her, most of it permeating from the man that held her. Kirsli snuggled into him, soaking it up. It felt so good. She pushed up on the tips of her toes, moving her arms from around his chest to his shoulders and planted a soft kiss on his neck.

Balimund clenched his jaw, holding back a moan as he felt his cock harden. He wanted − no, needed her badly. She was his and it took every bit of willpower he possessed not to act on his needs. He ached to show her – remind her − how he felt about her and that not all men were like Maul. She was making it difficult to hold back, much like she had always done.

“Honey, you aren’t making it easy on me,” he murmured in her ear in a husky tone. “Then again, I don’t think you ever have.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Her eyes flicked up, meeting his. Mischief danced within the dual colored depths.

Balimund lifted her feet off the ground, bringing her up to eye level and held her in his arms, “Never, honey.” She pressed flush against him, drawing her legs up to wrap around his hips. “Though it begs the question of how far are you willing to go. Or are you just testing the water, so to speak.”

Kirsli shrugged, “Maybe a little testing. Maybe I want to regain a modicum of normalcy, of being in control of my life, of not being so scared of my own shadow and everything else. It’s been hard. I feel like that asshole took something from me and I don’t know how to get it back. I feel helpless and I hate it. What I do know is that I trust you.”

“It’ll take time, Kirsli honey. There’s no rush. Come on. Let’s head back home.” He gently kissed her forehead before setting her down to her feet.

Kirsli smiled, “Home it is then.” She clasped his hand in hers and strolled alongside him. It didn’t take long before they were back within the city and at the door of the Scorched Hammer. Once home, they settled in for the night, playing a game of cards before bedtime. 

Though it was a hard decision to make, Kirsli chose to sleep in her own bed instead of with Balimund. She needed to think about a few things and being close to him clouded her judgment. The older smith understood. 

~*~

Morning brought a clearer picture for Kirsli. She was never going to be rid of her fear if she continued to let it rule her life. She had so much to look forward to. Finishing School, perhaps even being accepted to the Arcane University and after that, there was a life to look forward to with Balimund. He had been right all along. She’d miss out on so much if she stayed here. There was a whole wide world out there just waiting for her to experience it.

A big smile graced her face while she cooked their morning meal. Thick slices of ham, poached eggs and apple dumplings. The delicious aroma filled the small house, beckoning the older smith from his bedchamber. His stomach rumbled and he made an appreciative hum as he joined her at the table.

Kirsli handed him a cup of coffee then set his plate down in front of him. The smile he bestowed upon her made her heart fluttered.

“You spoil me, honey,” he purred, winking at her before he dug into the feast before him.

“Once I’m away at the school you’ll be back to cooking for yourself so enjoy it while you can,” she replied before planting a kiss on his forehead.

He watched her as she stepped away from the table, her hips swishing to and fro as she moved. She had such grace. There was a fire about her. He’d miss her, had gotten so used to having her here. She permeated every nook and cranny of his home. Her scent, her influence, her everything.

Balimund chuckled low in his throat, “I know. I might starve or spend all my coin at the Bee and Barb.”

“Oh, you.” Kirsli rolled her dual colored eyes. “You won’t starve. You can cook as well as I can.”

He laughed heartily. Watching her get her dander up was worth it. She was a glorious spitfire. “Have plans for today? Didn’t you say something about going over to Honorhall?”

“I will later this afternoon, but after I clean up here, I have to meet Aria’s housecarls up in the keep’s training yard. Jordis sent over a message this morning. I’ll need my armor and daggers.”

“I stored them in the downstairs safe. I’ll bring them up once I finish this wonderful meal,” he smiled at her. “I should probably give them a good onceover. You haven’t worn them since that training session with Aria and Farkas.”

“You don’t have to tiptoe around the subject. You can say since Maul attacked me. I think it is past time I put it behind me and got on with my life. I know it’s not something that’s easy to forget, but I am done letting it have a hold over me.”

Determination added steel to her voice and in that moment Balimund gazed upon her with pure love and admiration shining in his eyes. He had never been more proud of her. He had always known Kirsli was strong, stronger than she gave herself credit for. She was a survivor. And no matter what the world threw at her she would overcome it.

~*~

Kirsli ran through the small market, her long legs eating up the distance between the keep and Balimund’s forge.

“Balimund! Balimund!” Her excited exclamation could be heard throughout the heart of the city. She skidded to a stop in front of the forge, where the smith in question diligently shaped a slab of hot molten steel into a work of art. 

He glanced up at her, smiling, watching as she bounced up and down. “What is it, honey?” She had been at the keep’s training yard with Aria, Jordis, Lydia, Iona and Argis for several hours. She was sweaty and dirty and her armor was showing some definite wear and tear. Obviously the training had been rather rough and tumble. 

“You should have seen it! I disarmed Argis! Took his sword clean away from him!” Her eyes gleamed proudly, her smile infectious.

“That’s incredible, Kirsli. I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Pride in her resonated in his voice, sparkled in his eyes. 

“It was so awesome. You know they call him ‘The Bulwark.’ He had his shield up and had a fierce look in his eyes. Aria showed me a few tricks. She taught me to dual wield war axes which was difficult at first, but once I became accustomed to their weight, I didn’t have much problem.” She held up the pair of ebony war axes that Aria had gifted her. “Anyway, she said the trick was to feint on Argis’s blind side, then strike, parry, block his sword and use my off hand weapon to yank his sword from his hand. I tried a couple times unsuccessfully and ended up losing my axe, but the last time I kept it and he lost his instead. He looked so surprised when his weapon went flying!”

“I’m damn proud of you, Kirsli honey.”

The jubilant redhead threw her arms around Balimund, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “I need to clean up before heading to Honorhall. I bet Constance will think I’m not coming. Oh, have any ideas for supper?”

“How about I take you to the Bee and Barb to celebrate?”

Her eyes lit up. “You’re on!” Then she raced into the house, singing a happy tune. Nothing could rain on her parade today. 

Argis joined Balimund at the forge a few minutes after Kirsli went inside to change out of her armor. The smith greeted them cheerfully, his eyes still glittering with pride over Kirsli’s accomplishments. 

“Good to see you, Argis.” Then he grinned widely, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “So I hear Kirsli pulled a fast one on you.”

Argis let out a boisterous guffaw. “She did. Took me by surprise. I didn’t think she could do it so I stopped taking the sparring matches seriously and she found an opening and exploited it, which is exactly what I taught her to do. She is a quick study. She has talent,” the Bulwark related. “Course, she also had Aria coaching her and feeding her little hints and secrets.”

“I think that’s great… just as long as you didn’t just let her disarm you.” Balimund leveled ‘that look’ upon the younger man. The look that said ‘you hurt Kirsli, you deal with me.’

“No, that isn’t the case. She truly disarmed me and I’m not the only one. She did the same to Jordis. She should keep training. We’ll work with her for as long as we are in Riften, or until she leaves for schooling.” Argis offered good-naturedly. He liked Kirsli. She was a sweet girl. Definitely easy on the eyes. The smith was a lucky man, indeed. “Tell her I said tomorrow same time and place.”

“Will do, Argis, and thank you… to all of you. I appreciate what you are doing for Kirsli and I know she would say the same.” 

Argis inclined his head as he walked away, allowing the smith to get back to work. It had been worth it to put a smile on Kirsli’s face, to help her face some of her fears. So what if they had missed out on a dragon hunt? They could hunt dragons anytime. By Talos, Skyrim certainly wasn’t lacking in the overgrown lizards.

~*~

Kirsli cleaned up quickly, bathing and changing into fresh clothes so she could visit Constance. She left her armor with Balimund. It needed a few minor repairs. Aria and her housecarls didn’t hold back at all during any of the sparring. The Dragonborn repeatedly emphasized that no one was going to take it easy on her in a real fight, therefore neither would they. She had to learn to defend herself as well as fight. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it. 

Disarming Jordis and Argis had been satisfying. Neither of them thought she could do it. They found out she could the hard way. 

_Don’t underestimate me just because I’m not as experienced as you._

_What I lack in skill I make up for in determination and stubbornness._

Just as she reached Honorhall, a familiar ginger haired thief wearing Guild armor came up the stairs from The Ratway. He crooked his finger, gesturing at her to come hither. Kirsli eyed him speculatively. She didn’t like it that Brynjolf was stopping her, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. It was too late to ignore him and act like she hadn’t noticed him. She knew that he knew that she was aware of his presence. 

She sighed and grumbled under her breath. Why couldn’t these people leave her and Balimund alone? That’s all they wanted. To be left in peace.

“What do you want, Brynjolf?” She eyed him suspiciously, hissing through her teeth.

“No need for hostility, lass.” He held his hands up in plain view, clearly trying to show he wasn’t up to no good. “Will you give a message to Aria for me?”

“Depends on the message.”

“Clever lass.”

Kirsli snorted and glared at him, yanking the door to the orphanage open. She didn’t feel like playing his game and at this moment she really wished she hadn’t left her daggers at home. “Are you just here to try my patience?”

“Tell Aria to meet me tonight in the Bee and Barb. Upper floor. She’ll know what it concerns.” Then he simply turned around and headed back down the stairs towards the canal. 

_Weird_.

She didn’t even want to know what that was all about and hoped Aria was smart enough not to get mixed up with the Guild, especially since it had always seemed like the Dragonborn wanted to take them out. Had something changed? Kirsli hoped not. Shrugging, she put it out of mind and headed into the orphanage. The only thing she wanted to concern herself with at this moment was finding out what Constance wanted to tell her. Kirsli certainly had her suspicions. It remained to be seen whether or not they were correct or not.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwuahahaha.... ends in a bit of a cliffhanger... hehehehe
> 
> What will Constance's news be and the meeting between Aria and Brynjolf... a-ha... plot bunnies


	23. Dark Deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aria meets with Brynjolf and dark plots are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than most, but the characters really haven't been talking to me all that much. There are plots abound, but not much happening with Kirsli and Balimund. The story is at an awkward stage right now... ugh... between ongoing plots and getting it where I need it to be. Plus I really didn't want to write the Thieves' Guild main quest line, so this is a bit of a bastardized version. And I really couldn't remember a whole lot of dialogue from the game, so I was just kinda winging it.

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Dark Deals**

After spending two hours playing hide and seek with the children just outside Riften’s walls, Kirsli ushered them back inside when she heard Constance yell for them to come in for their dinner. She knew this would give them time to chat while the children ate.

Kirsli helped the kids wash up for supper before aiding Constance set plates of food on the table. Once they had said grace, Constance pulled Kirsli into the kitchen where they could talk yet still keep an eye on their charges. Constance’s eyes twinkled happily and a blush had settled onto her cheeks.

“Obviously something good is going on. You look positively radiant. Don’t keep me in suspense any longer,” Kirsli chimed.

“I do have good news. I am with child. If my calculations are correct, I should deliver sometime in Frostfall.”

Kirsli’s eyes widened and she let out a shout of happiness. “You’re having a baby! Congratulations! I can’t wait to tell Balimund.” Then her expression sobered and she sighed. “I won’t be here. I’m going away for school.”

“That’s important, Kirsli. You’ll love the Imperial City and it won’t be forever. Asbjorn is hoping we have a son. He says he’ll have the baby hammering at the forge as soon as it drops.” Constance rolled her eyes.

“That sounds like something Balimund would say,” Kirsli snickered in agreement. “Men.”

The two giggled together.

“I am so happy for you. By the grace of Mara, a baby,” Kirsli hugged her tightly. “You will be a wonderful mother. You already are to the children here.”

Constance smiled. “I am so blessed. I couldn’t ask for more.”

***

Leaving Honorhall, Kirsli headed for Honeyside. Iona answered the door when she knocked.

“Is Aria here? I need to speak to her.” Kirsli plastered a bright smile on her face.

Iona’s brow furrowed. “You just missed her, Kirsli. She went to the Bee and Barb.”

“Did she say why?”

“I’m not sure I should be discussing my Thane’s business, even with you.” Iona replied.

A frown crossed Kirsli’s lips. “Brynjolf gave me a message to give to Aria. He wanted her to meet him at the Bee and Barb, upper floor. If that’s what is happening, then I don’t need to give her the message. Have a nice evening.” She stalked away, muttering under her breath. The stupid wench didn’t need to get snippy with her. She wasn’t trying to really trying to stick her nose into Aria’s business, but she had agreed to deliver the message. Aargh!

Crossing the bridge, she headed home. Balimund had promised to take her out to eat and she planned on having a good evening. He wasn’t at the forge as she passed by it. He could have closed up shop early. She entered the house, finding him inside with… Aria. She stopped at the door, scratching her head. The two were talking.

It seemed to her that something fishy was going on.

“I’m home,” she called out.

Balimund glanced over and smiled, then turned his attention back to Aria, who was excitedly telling a tale. “And by the time we’ve fought our way to the top of this decrepit ruin, through witches and hags and trolls and gigantic spiders, Illia gets the bright idea that I’m going to be the sacrifice her mother needs to become a hagraven. So I play along and sit down in the chair. Illia’s mother comes at me with a knife and she has no clue who she’s dealing with. Illia speaks up and says ‘Mother, I can’t let you do this.’ That’s when I stand up and unleash an Unrelenting Force shout. The hag goes flying over the walls. Next thing I know, a fucking dragon is landing. So Illia and I fight it. She’s blasting away at with magic. I’m shouting and hacking away at it with my greatsword. Once it’s done, I absorb its soul and guess what?” 

Balimund shook his head. “What? Don’t tell me. The hag came back.”

“Yes! The fucking hag comes crawling back, shooting ice spikes and I’m like ‘Bitch, I just took down a dragon. Who the fuck do you think you are?’ So Illia and I finish her off. I roasted that hag with my fire breath. And all Illia can say at the end of all of that is ‘Oh, you’re the Dragonborn!’ Talk about someone ready to lose their shit.”

A roar of laughter erupted from Balimund, his shoulders shaking. “That sort of thing happens to you all the time, doesn’t it?”

Aria nodded her head as she grinned, “Pretty much. I think crazy just follows me around.”

“I’ll say.” Kirsli interjected. “I was on my way to Honorhall earlier and Brynjolf stopped me.” Balimund raised a brow as a concerned look crossed his face. “Don’t worry. He wasn’t bothering me. He asked me to give Aria a message. To meet him at the Bee and Barb tonight. Upper floor. That you’d know what it was about.”

Aria nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

Kirsli continued to explain what happened. “I gave the message to Iona and she told me you were already at the Bee and Barb. And that was just a few minutes before I came home.”

Aria rubbed her face. “There’s more afoot than you know, Kirsli. You weren’t aware, but in the future don’t leave messages for me with Iona. Yes, she’s my housecarl, but I believe she’s spying on me. I caught her going through some of my things. I just haven’t ascertained who she’s spying for. Whether it’s Maven or the Jarl.”

“Not to put my nose in your business, but why are you dealing with Brynjolf? I thought you wanted to shut the Guild down.” Balimund questioned. He really didn’t like what he was hearing, considering his business had been hit by members of the Guild.

“Call it a necessary evil. Brynjolf and I have an accord. He wants to keep out of my business, because he knows what it has cost him. It’s Maven and Mercer Frey that are causing the problems. I know what you’re thinking, but believe me when I tell you it was Maven that ordered the hit on your business and it was because of me. Call it collateral damage, but by the time it’s all said and done, Maven will no longer have a hold on Riften. She thinks she can scare people by threatening the Dark Brotherhood or the Guild, but she’s going to learn that you don’t fuck with Aria. Or people I care about. I wiped out the Dark Brotherhood.”

Balimund sighed. “You are crazy, every inch of you.”

“Comes with being Dragonborn.” Aria grinned. “Looks like I have a meeting to attend, though I may press him for a different venue.”

Aria hugged both Balimund and Kirsli on her way out. 

As he watched the door close, he exhaled loudly. “That girl is going to tear Riften apart if she isn’t careful. Those of us left will have more than just collateral damage to deal with. I hope she knows what she’s doing.”

Kirsli perched herself on his lap, looping her arm around his shoulder and pressed her forehead against his. “I think she does. We’ll just weather this storm like the rest of them.”

He cocked a brow at her. “When did you become such an optimist?”

“A smart man once told me  _ it’s darkest before the dawn _ . Everything will be fine. We have each other and that’s what matters.”

“So true.”

  
“Oh, and Constance and Asbjorn are having a baby. She’s due sometime in Frostfall. Does make you a grandpa?”   
  


***

“Not here,” Aria murmured as he came close. “Meet me outside the walls.”

Then she ducked into a vacant room and out of sight as she climbed out of the window and up over the roof. The drop to the ground below wasn’t very far. She managed it as soundlessly as possible and used the shadows of the night to make her way to the meeting spot. 

In the shadows of the trees not far from the south gate, Aria joined her compatriot in her war against Maven and Mercer. “He’s not far behind me. Are we ready for this?”

The hooded figure standing in shadows breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ve been waiting twenty-five years for this.”

“Good. There he is.” Aria turned to greet Brynjolf, who had slowed his approach. He had not expected to meet up with more than one person. Aria he recognized, but the other person was of a slight build and kept to the shadows. His brow furrowed. Hair rose on the back of his neck. It made him wonder what the lass had planned this time.

“What’s going on, lass?”

“You tell me, Bryn.” Aria replied with a bit of the force in her voice. 

He cocked a brow at her. “I have some interesting news, but this was unexpected. Who else have you dragged into this madness? Not the blacksmith’s lass?”

“You gave her the message for me. I’d say you’re the one who involved her, but no, my companion isn’t Kirsli, though her name does begin with a K.”

Brynjolf gasped, “Karliah!” His eyes flashed. “You dare to bring her here?” 

Karliah stepped out of the shadows and pushed back her hood. “I would not be here if you weren’t already suspecting a certain member of the Guild, Brynjolf. You asked to meet Aria tonight. I think we have more in common than you realize.”

He pursed his lips and eyed her speculatively. “I gather that is the reason for the change in venue.”

“I’m being watched. It’s extremely annoying.” Aria huffed. “But let’s stop beating around the bush. You want to talk to me about Mercer.”

“Damn right I do. He must’ve figured out what you meant when you said there was someone else who longed to shoot an arrow through his black heart. I admit I had my suspicions. There have been too many coincidences. Goldenglow and now I hear Maven’s been pressing Sabjorn to sell her Honningbrew Meadery even harder, but her inside source has apparently turned up missing, and now Karliah comes back.”

“You’re getting there, Bryn. I destroyed Goldenglow. Mallus, Maven’s inside source, has been taken care of. Oh yes, I knew he was a plant from the first time I ever talked to him and Sabjorn. The Companions of Jorrvaskr have an interest in Honningbrew, especially since it’s right there in Whiterun. We love our mead. Let’s just say with Karliah’s help, the Companions have a controlling interest in Honningbrew… silently.”

Brynjolf rubbed his face wearily. “Mercer left the Guild. He cleaned out the vault of all our gold, jewels, and the dozens of plans that Gallus had gotten his hands on. We aren’t even sure how he managed to break into the vault. Its lock requires two keys. Mercer has one. I have one and Delvin has one.”

Karliah took a few more steps forward. “He wouldn’t need both keys.”

“What do you mean, lass? And don’t tell me any lies. I’m still not sure whether I should trust you. You murdered Gallus.”

“No, she didn’t.” Aria spoke up. “We don’t have the proof we need yet to clear her name, but believe me when I tell you it was Mercer.”

“Mercer? Why? He was Gallus’s second. He wouldn’t.”

“Are you so sure about that?” Karliah stared up at him with guileless lavender eyes. 

“I’m not sure about anything right now, lass. I do know after we found the empty vault, I sent Sapphire into what’s left of Riftweald Manor. Nothing is left above ground, but Mercer had secret tunnels that connected the manor and the ratway. She made her way in through those. We found his plans.” A grim expression settled onto his handsome face. So much was sinking in. So much was slowly coming to light. 

“Which are?”

“The Eyes of the Falmer,” Brynjolf stated as he rubbed his chin and watched both ladies standing before him with hawk like eyes. 

“No! He wouldn’t!” Karliah gasped as realization hit her full force.

“Wait— what are the Eyes of the Falmer and what do they have to do with this?” Aria cut in, glancing from Karliah to Brynjolf. Both had serious expressions on their faces, though shock now lingered on Karliah’s. 

“Before Gallus died, he had planned to recover them. The Eyes are large flawless gems worth a small fortune. If Mercer gets his hands on them, he’ll disappear and be set for life. I can’t allow that. He has to pay for what he’s done to the Guild.” His tone was as hard as his countenance. 

“To meet him head on would be folly. We must prepare. Mercer was once part of the Nightingale Trinity along with Gallus and I. He turned his back on everything the Nightingales stood for when he desecrated the Twilight Sepulcher and stole the Skeleton Key.” Karliah crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

“I always thought the Nightingales were a story to keep the young footpads in line.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. 

“There is a standing stone not far from here. Meet me there and see for yourself.” Karliah then disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind Aria and Brynjolf. 

The green-eyed thief raised a brow at the Dragonborn, “Will you be joining us?”

“No, Brynjolf. I suggest you choose someone from the guild. Someone you can trust implicitly.” Aria declined. “I cannot be what the Trinity needs nor will I bind my soul to another Daedric Prince. There will be many of the Gods and Princes fighting for possession of the Dragonborn’s soul once I finally retire to Sovngarde. I suspect, however, that Shor will win out.” Aria flashed a haunted smile. “But if it is my fate to spend eternity in Hircine’s happy hunting grounds, I will not complain. Besides while Mercer is being dealt with, I will take care of Maven. Never you worry how.”

***


End file.
